The Edulcoration of Duo Maxwell
by Mookie 821
Summary: Wealthy businessman Duo Maxwell bites off more than he can chew when he allows a male prostitute into his car. In the span of a single week, he begins to question his business ethics, his personal choices, and an enigma named Heero. Yaoi. COMPLETE.
1. The Meeting

**This is a fusion, of sorts, with the movie** **Pretty Woman**, written in response to a challenge issued on the 1x2ML (Yahoo Groups), with Duo in the role of the businessman who makes the acquaintance of Heero, a prostitute working Hollywood Boulevard.

Warnings: AU, yaoi, coarse language, violence, angst, cliffhangers, red herrings, mention of various vices, random bits of useless knowledge, nongraphic male/male sex, enough footnotes to choke an army of horses.

Disclaimer: I don't really need to be Captain Obvious here, do I? No ownership, no money being made. Written for fun, not profit.

Spoilers: None for GW, very few for Pretty Woman.

I'm not sure about the title, but I thought it a damn sight better than "Pretty Heero."

_Edulcoration_- noun form of the verb edulcorate, meaning to free from harshness (as of attitude) or to soften.

* * *

**Chapter 1 - The Meeting**

Wufei Chang made his way through the throng of people, surveying everything with a cool eye. He was pleased with the arrangements his wife Meiran had made, and if Duo knew what was good for him, he'd damn well be appreciative. So far, everyone's reception to the rumor that he and Duo were thinking of taking over yet another business seemed positive.

He made another sweep of the room with his coal black eyes. Where _was_ his associate, anyway?

Duo Maxwell was standing behind the door to a room that looked like a library, a cell phone to his ear. His head was bent slightly, and he held his free hand to the other ear to block out the noise that filtered through the hall.

"Hilde? What's going on?" he said, his tone genial, his eyes looking anything but. Hilde, of course, could not see the slow burn that dwelled in his lowered gaze, nor the slight clenching of his jaw.

"You heard me, Duo, I don't think I need to repeat it," the tinny voice on the cell phone said. Duo gripped the phone tighter. You'd think for all the money he'd spent on the damn thing, the reception would be better.

"I think you do," he said calmly. Despite the soft tone of his voice, Hilde heard him.

"Duo," she said, sounding almost pained. "It's not working. You know it, and I know it, and we gave it our best shot, but it's time to move on."

"And I don't have any say in this?"

"How can you say that?" the voice blared, making Duo pull the phone away from his ear a bit and staring at it before returning it to its previous position. "Duo, you're never here when I need you. There's always someone or something more important."

Duo jumped on that last comment. "Some_one_? You think there is some_one_?"

"Isn't there? I talk to Sylvia more than I ever talked to you. If I didn't know Sylvia personally, I'd think you had something going on with her."

Duo counted to ten before he replied. "You really think that."

"No," she sighed. "No, Duo, I don't think you'd be interested in Sylvia."

He recognized the evasion. "And you don't think so because…?"

"Duo, if you don't know, far be it from me to enlighten you."

Duo's fingers clenched on the phone until he heard the plastic casing crack.

"Oh, I don't know," he said, his voice dropping an octave. "Please, do be so kind as to 'enlighten' me."

"It's just..." Hilde paused, and Duo could picture her shifting uncomfortably. "Duo, have you ever thought that maybe you're..." she trailed off, her voice sounding almost timid.

"That maybe you're gay?" she said in a half whisper. That's all Duo caught before the tips of his fingers wrapped around the phone, hitting the off switch as the crack in the casing traveled up its length.

* * *

A slender young man stepped out of his shower and toweled off his hair, the end result looking like a thatch of dark brown grass just ripe for mowing. He didn't bother to wrap the towel around his waist. The towel was folded and placed on the towel rack beside the tub. He looked into the mirror briefly, then scowled. He grabbed a hairnet from the medicine cabinet and placed it over the unruly locks, tucking every stray hair under the stretchy mesh.

The blonde wig, he decided. Eye liner? He pondered briefly, then decided against it. It wasn't as if he were going to try to pull off the transsexual tactic. He wanted his clients to know what they were getting, for the most part, anyway, to avoid any unpleasantness when they found out the hard way. He almost snorted at the unintentional pun.

He headed for the door, then hesitated. It was the end of the month, and he could hear their landlord rapping on the door down the hall to collect the rent. He went into the bedroom next to his and lifted up the mattress, spilling pillows and blankets onto the floor. He reached into a small hole poked in the center of the box spring and pulled out the glass mason jar hidden there, but even without looking at it, he knew it was empty. He took a deep breath. Quatre better have a _damn_ good excuse this time.

Five minutes later, the young man was dressed and slipping out the window, into the night.

* * *

Duo hit the steering wheel and swore under his breath, then remembered that he was alone in Wufei's car and let loose with a stream of colorful language. It wasn't often he was able to vocalize his frustration without couching everything in polite language.

Wufei was going to be seriously pissed. Duo hadn't asked for permission before borrowing the car, but it was going to be obvious to his friend, once he recovered from the shock of finding his prized car missing, that Duo was also missing and then he'd put two and two together. It had been a long time since Duo had needed to utilize his thieving skills, but hotwiring a car was a lot like riding a bike. Even if the car was a Ferrari Enzo.

An Enzo. Three hundred and ninety-nine made in the entire run. Forget pissed. Wufei was going to kill him when he got back. Shit. He really should get back, before something untoward happened to Wufei's pride and joy.

Except he was hopelessly lost.

He really shouldn't have broken the cell phone after his conversation with Hilde.

* * *

"Where's Quatre?" a platinum blond haired man growled at the bartender of the little neighborhood pub he frequented. The brunet behind the bar pointed in the direction of the stairs, and received a curt nod in response.

A group of people were seated at a table in the upstairs section. A young man with honey gold hair shivered as if a chill had permeated the room, even though the heat from all the bodies around him made such a thing impossible.

"Quatre," a voice hissed in his ear as a hand clamped on his shoulder.

Quatre had known it was coming, but he winced anyway. He was so busted.

"How much?" the voice continued.

"He's in it for a couple hundred," a bald man to Quatre's right said, throwing a few bills in the middle of the table. "Call."

Quatre nervously glanced over his shoulder into furious blue eyes that looked as though they wanted to tear him limb from limb.

"I thought we went over this, Quatre."

"I know," Quatre protested. "But I just know that my luck is going to change this time!"

"You've been saying that for the past six weeks! You just blew our _rent_ money, Quatre!"

"And some of next month's, too," a dark-haired man to baldy's right added somewhat cheerfully.

"Let's go," Quatre said nervously, shooting a dark look at the others before tugging on his roommate's hand and leading him down the stairs. If he was going to die, it sure as hell wasn't going to be with all those witnesses telling him "I told you so" as the life was choked out of him. He waved half-heartedly to the bartender on his way out, but he didn't dare slow his pace.

"I don't know why you're so upset," Quatre began. "I mean, you know I'm good for it. I swear, I'll replace it." He noticed the tightness around the other man's lips and remembered belatedly that their rent was due today. He was suddenly swamped with guilt and he reached out to touch a lock of the pale blond hair with his fingertips.

"This is a good look for you," he said, hoping his roommate would go along with the change of topic. "You're a pretty hot looking blond."

"I look like a girl," the other man snorted.

"Oh, believe me," Quatre said, shaking his head. "You don't look anything like a girl." His aquamarine eyes scanned the streets for another distraction from their rent woes, and he clamped his companion's arm in a vice grip.

"Holy _shit_, would you look at that?"

They both stared at the sleek black car that neither of them thought they'd ever set eyes on in their lifetime.

Quatre glanced over at his roommate and saw that the car had made a definite impression. "What do you have to lose?" he suggested, gesturing toward the car. 'Please give it a go,' he thought silently. Whether because he wanted his friend to have something else to occupy his mind so he wouldn't ask so many questions or because he had a feeling that such a rare car in their midst was an omen, Quatre wasn't quite sure. A good omen, hopefully, considering all the money he'd "borrowed" from their stash.

He would have won that poker game, too, if not for Otto.

* * *

Duo pulled over, letting the engine idle as he fumbled with the cell phone. He might still be able to hotwire a car, but apparently fixing small electronic devices was a rapidly deteriorating skill. At least it was in the dark. He suddenly had the feeling that he wasn't alone, and he looked up to see a pair of eyes staring at him in the dim interior. In this lighting, they looked silver, but then, so did the hair that spilled over the shoulders of his visitor.

"Do you mind?" Duo snapped.

"Not at all," a deep voice replied. "Need help?"

Duo scowled in the darkness. No, he didn't need help with the stupid cell phone. What he needed was -

He was being an idiot. What did he need a phone for, when he could just ask this...person...just as easily?

"Know where the Regent Beverly Wilshire is?"

"Of course," the voice scoffed, as if its owner was very well acquainted with the it. "Don't _you_?"

The scorn rankled. It shouldn't have, because even a streetwalker could guess that anyone with enough money to drive a car like this would naturally stay in a swank hotel like the Wilshire. Duo did not like feeling belittled, however.

"Of course," Duo mimicked the stranger's comment. "Why else would I ask? Perhaps I'm taking a survey."

"Sarcasm doesn't become you," the voice chastised without a trace of humor. "You plan on staying here until all that's left of the car is the steering wheel you're putting dents in?"

Duo relaxed his grip on the wheel with his left hand. He leaned his right hand on the passenger seat and peered up into those silver orbs. The dispassionate face gave nothing away, but Duo had spent enough years working with negotiations to realize that the old adage about getting something for nothing was going to be true.

"So are you going to help me find it or not?" he asked. To his surprise, the passenger door swung upwards, and the blond stranger slipped into the empty seat.

"Twenty bucks," he said as he reached over his shoulder for the seat belt.

Duo nearly sputtered. _"Twenty?_ Are you insane?"

"You have a point," his soon-to-be-savior agreed. "Make that fifty."

Duo's eyes nearly bugged out of his head. "You...you..." He bit his tongue. There was nothing he could do, and it would be worth fifty dollars just to get Wufei's baby back to him in one piece.

"Fine," he bit out.

His overpriced guide reached up to pull the passenger door closed, and Duo pulled away from the curb as soon as he heard it latch firmly. Once he'd calmed down enough not to provoke the stranger into doing something like raising the price to a hundred dollars, Duo asked, "what's your name?"

He received a grunt in response.

"Your people skills are charming," Duo muttered.

"I think we both know that I'm not paid for my witty banter," came the caustic reply. Duo glanced over at him, thinking that perhaps the man had a sense of humor. Either that or he was just cynical as hell. When Duo's eyes returned to the road, he heard the sullen response.

"Heero."

So the guy had a name after all. Duo thought of asking if it was his real name, but the reluctance with which the guy provided the information suggested that it probably was. Duo prided himself on his ability to read people. It was a necessary skill in the business world.

"You're going to get hypertension," Heero remarked as they merged onto the highway.

"Excuse me?"

"You need to relax your grip. Stress often leads to high blood pressure."

"What are you now, a doctor?" Duo snorted.

"I could be if you want me to. For two hundred dollars, I'll give you a complete physical."

Duo glanced over at him quickly, his eyes nearly bulging out. "Two hundred dollars?"

"Find any physician you'd go to who would charge you less," Heero challenged.

Duo hated to admit the guy had a point. His curiosity was piqued, but he wouldn't be able to satisfy any of it as long as he had to keep his attention on the road. He was also finding it more difficult with each passing second to follow any directions Heero gave him without reading innuendo into every word.

"Hey," he began, once again praying Wufei wasn't going to kill him. "Ever dream of driving an Enzo?"

* * *

They pulled off to a side road and Duo watched Heero eye the car with something akin to lust in his eyes. Duo swallowed convulsively as he watched the young man's fingers ghost over the car in a near caress before he climbed into the driver's seat, sinking back with a look of orgasmic pleasure on his face. Duo bit his lip hard as he walked around the car and climbed into the passenger seat.

While Heero drove, Duo took the opportunity to study him. It wasn't easy, as much of the blond's features were still in shadow, but he could see the way the pale hair cascaded over Heero's shoulders and back, and from his profile, Duo could see that Heero's eyes had an exotic slant. His arms were slender but very obviously male, thanks to the tight muscles in his biceps and forearms.

Duo's gaze returned to Heero's hair. He didn't meet many men with hair as long as his. He absently reached behind his neck and pulled the end of the long braid into his lap. Heero glanced sideways briefly, but said nothing.

It seemed a remarkably short period of time before Heero pulled in front of the Wilshire, even though Duo knew that they'd been driving around for a while. Heero had obviously taken the long way there, and Duo couldn't say he blamed him. He'd watched Heero's long slender fingers each time he changed gears, or at least he had when his eyes weren't riveted on Heero's face. Heero had looked uninhibited and wild, but now that they were here, Heero's features were guarded once again. They stepped out of the car and Duo gave the vehicle a once-over, breathing a sigh of relief once he confirmed that all he'd owe Wufei was a tank of gas. And probably an explanation, but Duo didn't really have one himself.

He looked back over at Heero who was just standing there expectantly.

Duo took the opportunity to take in the view. Heero's hair fell to his waist, where a pair of dark leather pants – probably navy or black - hugged his hips and did little to conceal Heero's attributes in the front. Duo flicked his eyes up to Heero's chest, covered in a loose shirt of deep green that was open at the neck, and his gaze followed the line of Heero's neck, up to his earlobe, and finally into Heero's eyes. Heero looked almost amused, if Duo could believe Heero capable of it.

"I'm not gay," Duo said, recognizing the look in Heero's eyes. He was assessing a potential mark.

"For _five_ hundred dollars," Heero said, leaning toward him slightly. "I can change that."

Duo swallowed, then realized that there was a glint in Heero's eyes that suggested he might be kidding. Black humor, Duo thought. That was something he was familiar with, too, and for a split second, Duo felt he knew Heero better than he knew his own business partner.

"Hey," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Are you, uh, going to be alright?" He felt a flicker of concern about this stranger, despite the discomfort Heero had caused, wittingly or not.

Heero graced him with a look that suggested that it was an incredibly stupid question. "I will as soon as you give me the fifty dollars you owe me."

Duo nodded and reached into his wallet, pulling out a hundred dollar bill. "I don't suppose you have change," he said lamely.

"No, but I'd be happy to give you a blowjob to make up the difference," Heero offered.

Duo glanced around, realizing that the valet was still standing there, waiting for the keys. Which he didn't have, because he'd hotwired the car.

"Follow me," Duo said tersely, "and we'll finish our business there." As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he mentally kicked himself for the innuendoes that permeated that sentence. Heero was well aware of them, too, because his lips curled up in an almost-smirk.

Duo handed the useless cell phone and a business card to the valet. "Call Wufei Chang at this number regarding the Enzo," he said, then he put a hand behind Heero's back and guided him into the hotel entrance.

Once they were in the brightly lit lobby, Duo got his first good look at Heero and he realized that Heero looked like sin incarnate. The loosely fitted shirt did more to emphasize that, with the smooth expanse of skin revealed. Duo wondered if Heero had his chest waxed, and if he did, if it was a personal decision or something he did because of his line of work.

Maybe it was his reaction to Heero, more than Heero's physical appearance, that invited the curious stares of the other hotel guests. The leather pants, Duo realized, weren't helping matters very much, and the two of them garnered several disapproving sniffs. Duo wondered what the hell he was doing, inviting not just a prostitute but a _male_ prostitute into his hotel room.

Heero intrigued him, he decided.

As they waited for the elevator, Heero glared at everyone who looked in their direction. The dark look he gave seemed incongruous with the white blond hair, and Duo couldn't stop staring at it. He saw his fingers creeping toward the platinum locks but pulled them back just as the elevator doors opened. Then he hauled Heero into the elevator and reached across the elevator operator to press the button, closing the doors before anyone else had a chance to overlook their puritan leanings and join them.

The elevator operator carefully averted his gaze, pretending not to notice them. Although they were only ones in the car, Heero was standing unnecessarily close to him. Not enough to invade his personal space, but definitely close enough so that Duo could smell him. He couldn't place the scent, but it evoked warm feelings in him, which was at odds with the coldness that had crept into Heero's eyes as he'd stared back at the other hotel guests. Eyes that Duo now realized were a stormy blue color, unlike his own, which he'd been told, numerous times, were like precious jewels.

He would not want to face those eyes in a dark alley, Duo decided, tamping down the memories from his own less than idyllic childhood.

He managed to only fumble with his card key once as he tried to open the hotel door, and Heero followed him in silently. As soon as the door shut behind them, Heero walked around the room, looking in corners and surveying the place as though searching for hidden enemies. Duo wanted to snort at the very idea, but somehow couldn't bring himself to think it was amusing.

He sat down at the desk and glanced at the light on the phone, but didn't bother to check the messages. He'd have all day tomorrow to listen to Wufei. He picked up the phone and informed the front desk that he did not wish to be disturbed. That would take care of any ideas Wufei might have about ringing the room after he got done ranting to Meiran about irresponsible, untrustworthy friends. Of course Meiran might end up making Wufei sleep on the couch, because Duo was sure that someone was going to be ranting about that car for the next few nights, but he didn't feel particularly guilty about that.

Thinking about the Enzo made his thoughts return to Hilde, and their last conversation.

Heero had been silent during his little reconnaissance of the penthouse, so Duo started when he heard that voice again. It had been deep before, but this time it had a husky timbre that made Duo's mouth go dry.

"Now that you have me here, Duo, what do you plan to do?"

tbc


	2. Wants

The Edulcoration of Duo Maxwell - 2/?

~~~~~~~

Warnings: AU, yaoi (2x1/1x2). Strong lime. See Chapter 1.

__

Edulcoration - noun form of the verb edulcorate, or to free from harshness (as of attitude) or to soften. 

~~~~~~~~

/Heero had been silent during his little reconnaissance of the penthouse, so Duo started as he heard that voice again. It had been deep before, but this time it had a husky timbre that made Duo's mouth go dry.

"Now that you have me here, what do you plan to do?"/

~~~~~~~~

****

Chapter 2

Duo didn't know how to reply to that, because he still wasn't sure exactly why he'd invited Heero up.

"You could pay me," Heero offered. "To break the ice," he added, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

Paying Heero had been one of the things he had wanted to do away from prying eyes. It was one thing to traipse Heero through the lobby and let everyone THINK that Duo was keeping company with a prostitute, but quite another to pay him in front of them all and remove all doubt. Especially when said prostitute was male. Damn Hilde. It was her fault he was in this mess.

Duo still had nothing smaller than a hundred, well, not if he wanted to pay Heero the entire fifty he owed him, and he remembered what Heero had suggested earlier as a solution. He was successfully fighting against the flush that threatened to stain his cheeks until he saw Heero reach into his leather pants. Not into his pockets, but right down the front of his pants. Was he going to fondle himself while Duo watched?

Heero's hand slipped out slowly, then he showed Duo the foil packet in his hand. Several of them, in fact. Duo would have wondered at how Heero was able to tolerate the sharp edges of the foil squares poking his softer regions if he hadn't been struck by the realization that Heero was really planning on following through.

"Maybe we could just talk," Duo said, feeling like a shy virgin having second thoughts. In a way, that was exactly what he was, at least when it came to being with another man. One of Heero's eyebrows disappeared beneath the white bangs. One of his very dark brown eyebrows, in fact. He said nothing, but one of his hands reached up to undo the first button on his shirt. Duo watched, transfixed, as each button slipped free, almost envious of the tiny plastic discs.

Just when the last button had been reached and the silk shirt fell open, a knock at the door made him jump. Heero looked almost amused, and Duo's features settled into a slight frown.

"I wasn't expecting anyone," he muttered, remembering how he'd clearly left instructions not to be disturbed for the remainder of the evening.

Heero's eyes roamed the room again before settling on the door, his entire body tensing at Duo's casual remark. 

"Would you get that for me, Heero?" Duo asked, inclining his head in the direction of the door.

"You didn't pay me to be your bodyguard," he replied stiffly.

'Bodyguard?' Duo thought. He might have expected Heero to complain about being a maid, but a bodyguard? "You have got to be the rudest whore I've ever met," he muttered under his breath, then got up and answered the door himself.

The porter was there with a bottle of champagne and a bowl of fruit, and he beamed at Duo. His shiny gold plated tag identified him as Ralston.

"Sorry I didn't bring this earlier, sir, but you weren't here."

Duo was willing to bet that Wufei had arranged for the little welcome-to-the-city gift. Before Duo had "borrowed" the Enzo, of course.

He waved the man in, and gestured toward the desk as the best place to leave the cart.

"Please make sure there are no further disturbances this evening," he said, slipping a twenty into the porter's hand. Ralston glanced from Duo to Heero and back, but said nothing. Heero caught the man in the act and glared at him. Duo ended the staring contest by smiling at the hotel employee and then quietly but firmly shutting the door.

He was ready to slap himself. Just perfect. Champagne, a request for privacy, and the sexiest man he'd ever laid eyes on just standing there in his room, his silk shirt open and falling off his shoulders. What else was Ralston the Porter to think?

He realized what he'd just acknowledged to himself, and turned his gaze on Heero once again.

Now that he was looking at Heero with new eyes and an open mind, he felt a subtle stirring in his groin. The same sights he'd noticed earlier, the juncture between Heero's neck and shoulder, the taut muscles in his arms, the curve of his ass in those clingy leather pants... The view of Heero's posterior was suddenly obstructed as the hemlock green silk slid down Heero's arms and hung from his elbows, the rumpled tail end slithering over the back of his thighs during its descent. From the slightly triumphant look on Heero's face, it must have been pretty obvious what Duo was thinking.

"You're not like other hookers," Duo said, resisting the urge to touch himself to relieve his sudden discomfort.

"If I were, I wouldn't be worth three hundred dollars," Heero practically purred. PURRED, like a damn cat. Duo blinked at him.

"You said TWO hundred!"

"That doesn't include the prostate exam," Heero said reasonably. "The two hundred covers the external checkup only," he added.

There was that damned purring again. "I suppose a CAT scan would be part of the package deal?"

Heero frowned slightly, obviously not getting the joke, but Duo supposed it wasn't all that funny in the first place.

"Do you want me to suck you off or not?" Heero asked impatiently, still waiting for the hundred dollars.

Duo had every intention of apologizing to Heero, of paying him the money he'd promised and sending him on his way, until Heero's words planted an image of that white blond head between his legs. The twitching he felt between his legs became a full-blown erection, and he closed his eyes to shut out the image of those unyielding lips on his shaft.

Except Heero took the groan that escaped his lips as a sign of agreement. The next thing that registered on Duo's consciousness was the feel of his zipper being tugged down.

No, his mind whispered, but his body refused to listen, his hips thrusting toward Heero.

"For fifty dollars," Heero drawled. "You wear a condom, and I take you into my mouth, scrotal manipulation only if necessary, but prostate stimulation is extra."

Prostate stimulation?

Duo opened his eyes and found it easier to resist the lure of Heero's nimble fingers if he focused on the blinking light on the phone.

"Heero," he said, keeping his voice firm.

"You willing to pay more?" Heero's face was impassive, almost bored looking. Where had the embodiment of his wants and desires gone? In its place was this blond-haired businessman with a voice devoid of all the promises it had held earlier.

Duo was torn. Part of him wanted to give Heero the hundred dollars, thank him for his help, and count himself lucky that it had only cost him that much as he watched the door shut behind the prostitute.

The other part couldn't help replaying Hilde's words, couldn't help remembering how moments earlier he had wanted Heero to make good on the words he was saying.

His mind was still clouded with lust, and finally he decided that the only way to figure anything out was to keep Heero there for a while.

"Have some champagne," he said, pouring the bubbling liquid into a crystal flute.

"I don't drink," Heero said, crossing his arms in front of him. Duo shrugged and held the glass aloft, as if in a toast, before downing it. He lifted the silver lid from the bowl of fruit and held it out to Heero.

Heero looked at him with a bored expression. "For crying out loud, Heero, just take a damn piece of fruit, already."

"Look," Heero began, pausing to look at Duo. He was waiting for something. The longhaired man realized he'd never introduced himself. He wasn't sure what the proper etiquette was when doing business with a whore, so he supposed his failure to do so wasn't a terrible faux pas.

"Duo," he supplied, suddenly filled with the desire to hear his name fall from Heero's lips as the pseudo-blond climaxed. He shook his head as if it would jar those errant thoughts out of his mind.

"Duo," Heero repeated. "You don't have to go through this whole charade with me. If you want me to make you blow your load, I need to determine the manner in which I achieve that end. It will, of course, depend on how much you are willing to spend, although your body's responses to various stimuli will be taken into consideration."

How many prostitutes talked like that, Duo wondered. "How much for the whole night?" he heard himself ask.

"A thousand dollars," Heero stated. "That will get you almost anything except bondage." He looked Duo in the eyes defiantly. His eyes took on a much grayer hue than they had in the lobby. Where had that hint of stormy skies gone?

"Done," Duo said, putting the bowl down and seating himself on the love seat, his legs spread open in invitation.

Heero demonstrated the skills he acquired, and Duo bit his lip as he came, insuring that no words, no names, escaped unbidden, as his body shuddered violently. His only thought was the realization that he'd just been given the most satisfying blow job of his life.

~~~~~~~

Duo hadn't realized that he'd passed out after his orgasm, until he noticed the only light that was on was the one in the bathroom. He was still sitting there with his pants undone, but the condom had been removed from his now flaccid member.

He stuffed himself back in his pants and zipped them quickly as he made his way toward the bathroom. Heero had obviously heard him, and if Duo hadn't spent so many years as a pickpocket, he might have missed the sleight of hand Heero had used.

What was he hiding? Duo's eyes narrowed, and he was suddenly very glad Heero had expected him to wear a condom.

"What are you hiding, Heero?"

Heero glowered at him, but Duo was angry enough that he didn't care. "Get out," he said. "I won't have you using drugs here. I'll pay you what I owe you, then you can get the hell out."

Heero had his hand on the door as soon as the words 'get out' left his client's lips, but at the mention of drugs, he froze. He turned and sent an icy, hateful glare in Duo's direction.

"I don't use drugs," he said, his voice every bit as cold and biting as his eyes.

Duo blinked. His eyes. Heero's grayish blue eyes were now a stunningly brilliant color that resembled cobalt glass. The lighting in the bathroom wasn't half as good as it was in the rest of the suite. He reached out and grabbed Heero's chin, lifting his face and staring into those eyes.

Duo had been told many times, by countless women trying to get into his pants, or more specifically, the wallet in those pants, and had been told that his eyes were like sapphires, as if he were some preening miss looking for pretty words.

Heero's eyes, though...if Duo were ever to wax poetic on the color or the intensity of someone's eyes, these were the eyes that would inspire him to do so. His grip lightened, and with his free hand he pushed the blond hair out of the way.

Good God, Heero had beautiful eyes.

"What are you hiding, Heero?" he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper. He barely registered the movement of Heero's hands, hands that could have easily held a weapon, he thought with a shiver, reaching up and holding something under his chin.

He released Heero's face and took the proffered item without losing eye contact with Heero.

He didn't recognize the feel of the object, so he reluctantly tore his eyes away and glanced down at his hand.

"Contact lenses?" He glanced at Heero, who gave a slight nod. Duo's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Heero, why -" he bit his lip again.

It wasn't his right to ask Heero to explain why he'd want to conceal the most captivating eyes on the planet. Duo didn't think he was exaggerating. Eyes that color would be sure to attract more...clients. He noticed a swirl of turbulent emotions in them just before Heero schooled his features into an expressionless mask.

Duo was well acquainted with masks.

He was also well acquainted with the constraints of time.

"Have a seat, Heero," he said, gesturing toward the loveseat. "Make yourself comfortable. Help yourself to anything you wish."

Heero's eyes swept the room as they had several times earlier, lingering for a moment on Duo's laptop before resting on the paperback book that was sitting on the end table. His eyes flicked toward Duo's briefly.

"I'm not reading it," Duo said nonchalantly. Heero's hand reached out, brushing over the cover once. Duo nodded in confirmation, and Heero picked up the book, pulled his knees up to his chest, and opened the book. Every now and then his lips would move silently, and Duo had to tear his eyes away from the tempting sight.

He went to his laptop and called up the prospectus on the Peacecraft Corporation. He thought he felt eyes on him a few times, but each time he looked up from his screen, Heero seemed absorbed in the book. Finally Duo kept his head lowered, but watched Heero carefully from beneath his lashes.

Heero glanced at the laptop again, then at Duo, and his body visibly tensed as he realized Duo was spying on him.

Duo folded his hands on his chest and leaned back in the chair, waiting to see what Heero was going to do next.

Heero got up and stretched, his bare stomach rippling slightly, then he slowly walked toward Duo, dropping to his knees between the chair and the desk. He placed his right hand along the outside of Duo's left thigh.

Duo almost gasped at the feel of those fingers caressing his leg through the tailored linen. He struggled to form the words.

"Anything other than bondage?" he managed.

"No kissing," Heero said. "On the mouth," he added. "That is nonnegotiable."

"On the mouth," Duo repeated.

"Rimming is OK," Heero offered with a half shrug. "If you're into that."

Duo would never have guessed the effects that Heero's words would have on him. That voice, saying things that he'd never dream of WANTING, making him picture every scenario he offered...he wanted to hear more from that voice.

"I want..." Duo paused, licking his lips as Heero rested his chin in Duo's lap and looked up at him expectantly. He stifled a groan. "I want to taste you."

If he'd expected Heero to be grateful, or surprised, he was doomed to disappointment. "Where?"

"There," Duo hissed, emphasizing that one word, hoping Heero wasn't going to pretend he didn't know where 'there' was.

Heero nodded once, then got to his feet and unlaced his pants within seconds. He slowly shimmied his hips out of the leather, and when the waist of his pants was at the top of his thighs, Heero let them drop, stepping out of them one leg at a time, making it look effortless.

Duo noted that the soft curls surrounding Heero's awakening arousal were just as dark as his eyebrows. His eyes flicked to the long blond locks that tickled the almost slender hips, but didn't want to waste time wondering why Heero was concealing his natural tresses when he wanted to focus his attention elsewhere.

Duo had never been with a man before, but he knew what he liked, and that should help. As he opened his mouth to capture the prize before him, Heero's hand tightened on his shoulder, pushing him back. Duo frowned. It was his dime, wasn't it? He looked up at Heero, who swallowed once and held out a condom. 

The feel and taste of latex weren't high on Duo's list of sexual turn-ons, but Heero's voice was, and he was going to do his damnedest to hear it.

Except that Heero was biting his lip, causing a trickle of blood to run down his chin. Heero's head was thrown back, but despite Duo's best efforts, he was barely doing so much as whimpering.

"I want to hear you, Heero," he said. "Scream for me."

"DU-Ooooo!"

Duo found himself experiencing a second orgasm at the sound of his name tearing from Heero's throat.

He thought he heard a cry of dismay, but Heero recovered quickly, removing the condom, disposing of it in the bathroom where he ran a washcloth under warm water. He returned to cleanse Duo as well. Duo watched the muscles in Heero's ass flex as he returned to the bathroom. When he heard the sound of the shower running, he climbed into bed and watched the door. He fell asleep before Heero returned.

He woke a few hours later, and realized he was still needed a shower himself despite Heero's best efforts to clean him up. He slipped out of bed and made his way to the bathroom, keeping the lights out until he reached the bathroom.

It took him a while to brush out his hair, then he turned the shower on and he washed and conditioned the locks. He rinsed himself clean and turned off the water, listening to the soft patter of droplets as they dripped from his hair to the tile floor. He wrapped one of the towels around his hair, nothing with satisfaction that at least the Regent Beverly Wilshire provided its guests with decent sized bath sheets, not washcloths trying to pass as towels. He squeezed the terry cloth several times to absorb the excess moisture, then hung it on the rack and combed his hair out carefully before replaiting it. As he fastened the tie at the end of his braid, he noticed the strands of platinum hair reflecting the light from the bulb in the bathroom.

He touched the wig briefly, then crept up to the bed silently. Heero stirred, and he froze, holding his own breath until Heero's breathing evened out in sleep again.

In the dark, he could see the tumble of dark hair that fell over Heero's closed eyes. His lips curved in a slight smile, and he reached a hand toward Heero's cheek, but didn't dare make contact with his skin. He watched the rise and fall of Heero's chest for a moment before he quietly went around the bed and crawled into the other side. He tucked the pillow under his chin and turned on his side so he was facing Heero's bare back.

If Hilde could only see him now.

tbc 

~~~~~~

Note on the rating: I did my best to scale down the details to keep this at an R-rating by suggesting more than explictly describing the actual acts. Anyone interested in the original, uncut (NC17) version of this chapter will need to access it at mediaminer.org, although I make no promises on the quality of the citrus.

Aiko - Ah, my first review, and the computer didn't burst into flames! Seriously, I thank you for your encouragement. I hope the wait for this chapter wasn't too long!

laura - yes, I am aware of the difference between 1x2 and 2x1, and I'm sorry for the confusion. When I referred to my 1x2 newbieness, that was actually a leftover warning from when I posted it on the 1x2ML (which, despite the name, also includes 2x1 and 1x2x1). The fic challenge that I mentioned in the introductory paragraph had several criteria, one of which was setting Duo as the businessman and Heero as the prostitute. I have seen people become _very_ up in arms over the difference between 1x2 and 2x1, because they expect to see one thing and are very disappointed to find out the story doesn't fit the paradigm. I had, however, hoped that it was clear from both the summary and the intro which roles the characters were playing, but I suppose not everyone wants to read a longwinded intro. I've skipped over a few of them myself on occasion, so I can't say I blame anyone. On a side note, one of the reasons I accepted this particular fic challenge was because there is a bevy of fics portraying Duo as a prostitute, but few that put Heero in that role.

Grevola - I do hope that the quality of this does not deteriorate as it progresses. Thanks for your encouraging words, as a newbie, certainly, but especially as a writer.

Link Worshiper - Beef it up, eh? Hmm, does that mean that being subtle is going to make you tear your hair out? The next chapter will probably not do much to clear things up. Hopefully by the end of the story all will be made clear. I'm stalled at Chapter 4 because I have to make sure I provide all the pertinent hints and avoid contradicting myself by the end of the story. It was very difficult to avoid mentioning Heero by name in the first chapter until Duo asked him. I am hoping to do this story justice, because some people will have seen the movie and others won't, and those who have will be judging it against a different set of standards. The challenge I accepted was to take the basic story and turn it into an alternate universe Gundam Wing fic, which means I cannot stick the characters into the roles that the actors portrayed in the movie. It has been a lot more enjoyable to write that way, because anyone can just change the names of the characters, and that's not really writing. It's my first attempt at a fusion, and I have definite ideas for where I'm going with it. Let's see if I can make the picture in my head into something entertaining and enjoyable for the duration of the story!

alexia-chan - I had to laugh when you mentioned the car, because that's the reaction I have when I read a story that mentions just about any car I have not personally driven. I'll respond to the car portion of your comment in a minute. Why did I leave it there for chapter one? It seemed like a good place? I actually had to rewrite portions of this chapter to conform to ff.net's R-rating, so it took me longer to upload it here. As for the car...I looked for the most _obscenely_ priced car I could find for that scene, and the Enzo, with a sticker price upwards of six hundred thousand dollars, was it. I'd heard of the car, but couldn't remember what it was called, and it took me a while to find it. Only 399 of them were made, so most of us peons will likely never even lay eyes on one. Its tiny windows (tiny in my opinion) were perfect for making the interior even darker. I think its styling looks rather space shuttle-like, given some imagination. Considering it was designed to be aerodynamic, perhaps my imagination isn't too far off. You could really REALLY stretch the limits of belief by picturing it as the Wing Gundam in bird mode, but I don't think that's a very apt description. The Enzo is capable of attaining velocities of 350kph or 217mph. Can you IMAGINE going that fast in a car? The bucket seats in the interior are like nothing I've ever seen, with a molded shape that looks like it actually cups the occupants. I also hear that a racing game for the Xbox features the car, but that doesn't do me any good, so it probably won't help you, either. Although for about thirty bucks, I can get my hands on a nice plastic model and build my own! After all that, if you'd like to see what it looks like, I'll provide two links. Hopefully they will be legible (I've seen ff.net do some funky things to URLs after documents have been uploaded). Try either http: // www. ssip. net/ enzo. php or http :// www. modelflight. com. au/ rc_model_cars/ tamiya_rc_cars_ferrari_enzo. htm (You'll need to delete all the spaces, of course. If you can't read either of them, try doing a search for Ferrari Enzo and you'll come up with a few sites with reviews on the car.)

mskchan - Yes. Same Heero. Blond wig, remember? If not, it was mentioned in the beginning of the chapter, while Heero was getting ready, just before he found out Quatre had taken the money. He was not referred to by name in that scene, as the first mention of his name was the scene in which he was in the car with Duo. Of course, after reading this chapter, it's pretty obvious now, I suppose.


	3. A Proposition

The Edulcoration of Duo Maxwell - 3/?

~~~~~~~

Note: This fic is in response to Nova Una's challenge to write Gundam Wing, Pretty Woman style.

Warnings: AU (duh), yaoi (double duh), language, citrusy situations

Disclaimer: I don't really need to be Captain Obvious here, do I?

__

Edulcorate, verb. To free from harshness (as of attitude) or to soften.

~~~~~~~~

****

Chapter 3 - A Proposition

Duo, having showered the night before, got up and threw on a dressing gown the next morning as Heero slept. Normally he wouldn't bother, but he wasn't sure how he was supposed to react the Morning After a night with a hooker.

He also didn't want to give room service an eyeful when they brought breakfast. He picked up the phone, ordered a little of everything, and then sat at the desk and checked his messages, shaking his head as he listened to Wufei's threats to his person.

He'd barely hung up the phone when it rang, and he picked it up, knowing very well who would be on the other end.

"Wufei," he said, tucking the phone between his ear and shoulder as he booted up his computer.

"If it weren't for the fact that we have a situation, I would gladly pierce your black heart with my sword."

"You need a new hobby, Wufei," Duo said. "Or are you going to insist on this fencing thing until you've managed to get better at it than Meiran?"

"Damn it, Duo, I'm serious!"

Duo leaned forward, his elbows on the desk. "What kind of situation?"

"Peacecraft wants to meet with you personally!"

"You do it," Duo said, gesturing dismissively as if Wufei were in the room with him.

"We did. But he wants to meet my partner, too."

"Hmm," Duo replied, clicking on his e-mail. "Wait. What do you mean, 'WE did'?"

"Meiran and I. Apparently Peacecraft is family oriented, and he wants to get a feel for the 'real us.'" Wufei's disgust was evident in his voice.

"Fine. When?"

"This evening. But-"

"OK, got it, tell me where and I'll be there with bells on to meet the old codger."

"Duo," Wufei said, gritting his teeth. "You're not listening to me. A, we aren't dealing with Peacecraft Senior, we're dealing with his son. B, aren't you listening to me?"

"You're repeating yourself, Chang," Duo said, deleting the junk mail that had accumulated overnight and mentally cursing his useless spam filter.

"Family oriented, Duo. FAMILY!"

Duo's lips tightened at the reminder of his current status. Did Wufei expect him to have Hilde fly to California to pose as his wife? His ears detected the sounds of movement coming from the bedroom, and his lips curled in a feral grin.

"I hear you loud and clear. E-mail me the particulars, and I'll show him family."

"Duo-" Wufei's protest was cut off as Duo carefully placed the handset back on its cradle.

Heero was leaning in the doorway, gloriously naked, his arms crossed. Seeing Duo terminate his phone call, he walked out and picked up his discarded clothes from the night before. Duo watched in fascination as Heero pulled the leather over his hips, looking a bit guilty as Heero caught his gaze.

"Fifty for the escort to the hotel. Fifty for the hummer. A thousand for the whole night. Eleven hundred dollars," Heero said, slipping the shirt over his shoulders and sliding both arms into the sleeves at once.

"Thanks. I don't think I could have handled the arithmetic without your help," Duo commented, earning a scowl from Heero.

"Listen, Heero," he said. "I have a business proposition for you."

Heero quirked an eyebrow at him.

"Please, have a seat. Help yourself to some breakfast," Duo gestured at the various covered dishes on the nearby table. Heero hesitated only briefly before removing all the covers. He helped himself to something from each plate, Duo noted with amusement. When Heero's eyes lit on the platinum wig hanging from the corner of one of the chairs, his hand automatically went to touch the thick brown hair on his head. It was wild and unruly and looked as though Heero had just enjoyed an incredibly satisfactory evening. Duo wondered briefly what it would be like to touch it.

"It looks good on you," Duo commented softly. Heero pulled his hand away from his hair and pretended he didn't hear.

"Before I tell you about my idea," Duo said. "I suppose I should tell you what I do for a living."

Heero shrugged.

"Ever steal anything, Heero? A big something? Like a car?"

Heero's scowl amplified into a full-blown glare. "Not all of us have your particular skill set," he said, letting Duo realize that Heero had noticed the lack of keys hanging from the ignition the night before. Duo decided to refrain from commenting on Heero's particular set of skills. Antagonizing the man wasn't going to get him what he needed.

"I'm listening," Heero finally said, his eyes locked onto Duo's. Duo noticed with a tinge of disappointment that Heero's contact lenses were in place, dulling the vivid blue he'd glimpsed the previous night.

Duo searched his mind for a suitable analogy, and remembered Heero's more than passing interest in the laptop.

"If I were to sell a computer with a 486 processor, how much do you think I could get for it?"

Heero's snort told him what he thought of that question.

"OK. Now let's say I don't have a problem cannibalizing the thing."

Heero's eyes lit up. "Selling off the components separately, servicing a market that has few suppliers."

Duo's heart made a little lurch, but he forced himself to focus on the business at hand. "Exactly. Well, I do the same thing with businesses, in a sense."

Heero made a grunt of understanding.

"So, Heero," Duo said. "You seem to know a bit about computers."

Heero grunted again, and Duo laughed. "You were much more talkative last night," he commented.

"I may have to reevaluate my opinion of you," Heero said a bit scornfully.

Duo's eyebrows went up. "Oh?"

"I didn't think you were naive," Heero replied with a shrug.

"But now you do," Duo stated. Heero nodded slightly. "So please, go ahead, tell me just what has made you change your mind."

"You're a businessman. You tell me. Why would I need to converse now? What purpose would that serve? The sales pitch was last night." Duo's eyes darkened at the not-so-subtle reminder that he'd fallen for it, too, even if he hadn't planned on it, but his pulse quickened as he remembered the end result. "You have a sales pitch of your own," Heero continued. "So I only need to listen." His eyes fell to his plate as he mumbled something.

"What was that?" Duo asked sharply.

Heero fixed him with another stare. "It's impolite to talk with your mouth full of cock," he said coldly.

Duo frowned briefly, then pasted a grin on his face. "Ah, but Heero, I have far more ambitious plans for that mouth of yours." That incredibly talented mouth, part of his mind added, making him glad he was wearing a loose robe and that Heero's eyes had shifted to look at the wall next to them. He had to reel in this fish before it got away, though. "Heero?"

Almost as if the previous conversation, if it could be considered one, had never taken place, Heero said, "I've dabbled a bit." He took a moment to savor Duo's pinched lip expression before adding, "with computers."

The crease between Duo's eyebrows smoothed. Why should it bother him if Heero had meant he'd 'dabbled' with the finer arts of oral sex? He was a prostitute, for crying out loud, of course he'd be good at it. Oh, God, he was so very, VERY good at it.

Heero was looking at Duo's laptop with a sense of nostalgia. "A bit," he repeated softly.

Duo caught a hint of longing in those words, but wisely kept it to himself. He wondered what had driven Heero to sell his body on the streets. It obviously wasn't his first career choice, so to speak. He must be a free agent, Duo mused, because he didn't seem the type who would tolerate having a pimp boss him around. Then again, he didn't seem the type to whore himself for a few bucks.

Duo couldn't help the wry grin that crept onto his features. A FEW bucks? If Heero accepted his proposal, it would cost him a far cry above a few bucks.

Looking at the thick brown locks of hair that spilled over Heero's forehead, he thought it would be worth every damn penny.

He had to focus on the real reason he wanted to hire Heero, though. He tried to organize his thoughts. They'd made perfect sense when he was on the phone with Wufei, but that was before the person who had a starring role in his plan walked out of the bedroom wearing nothing more than he had the day he was born.

Was the intense physical reaction an indication that he was, truly and irrevocably, attracted to men, or was it just an inevitable result of being around Heero? The man had a magnetic personality, which is why he so desperately wanted Heero's agreement. It wasn't just for the obvious reasons. Reasons he was looking forward to exploring.

He had to get dressed before Heero decided to make him drop his robe and act on his instincts. Assuming Heero would let him. He touched a hand to his scalp, remembering Heero's tight grip the night before and feeling lucky that Heero's fists hadn't pulled clumps of his hair loose as he came. There was a lot brewing behind those eyes, and Duo liked solving puzzles. With luck, he'd have some of the answers by the end of the week and would be able to move on.

But first he had to set up the rest of the week. He pulled on a pair of pants before daring to drop the dressing gown. His shirt was hastily buttoned. His fingers weren't cooperating as he tried to knot his tie, his body thrumming with anticipation, and the next thing he knew, Heero was standing in front of him, his fingers moving swiftly over the silk, then sliding the knot until the tie was in place. Heero fixed his collar, then ran his hand along the length of the tie until it fell against Duo's shirt with a gentle thump. He stepped back and looked Duo squarely in the eye.

Much to Duo's surprise, Heero said, "your proposition?"

tbc


	4. Similarities

****

The Edulcoration of Duo Maxwell - 4/?

~~~~~~~

Note: This fic is a response to Nova Una's challenge to write Gundam Wing/Pretty Woman fusion fic with Heero in the Julia Roberts role and Duo in the Richard Gere role.

Warnings: AU (duh), yaoi (double duh), language, citrusy situations, suggestive dialog.

Disclaimer: I don't really need to be Captain Obvious here, do I? No ownership, no profit.

__

Edulcorate (verb) To free from harshness (as of attitude) or to soften.

~~~~~~~~

/...Heero was standing in front of him, his fingers moving swiftly over the silk, then sliding the knot until the tie was in place. Heero fixed his collar, then ran his hand along the length of the tie until it fell against Duo's shirt with a gentle thump. He stepped back and looked Duo squarely in the eye.

Much to Duo's surprise, Heero said, "your proposition?"/

****

Chapter 4 - Similarities

"I need someone to accompany me to a business dinner this evening," Duo said.

"You mean a date."

"Perhaps," Duo confessed. "Truthfully, I'm not sure what I want or need yet."

Heero looked at him thoughtfully before replying. "Then how do you know that I'm the one who can give it to you?"

Duo almost winced at the innuendo, but the look on Heero's face indicated that he hadn't meant it that way. He assumed a casual but confident stance, the one he used in meetings all the time. "All business ventures have inherent risks."

"But it's preferable to minimize those risks."

Duo was beginning to think they were actually conducting one of those conversations that abounded in the staff meetings he was obligated to attend.

"Ah," he said, a triumphant grin on his face. "But those with the highest risks often yield the most lucrative rewards."

Heero seemed to be studying him, but Duo's grin didn't falter.

"There's more to this," Heero finally said.

If curiosity was the bait, he at least had him hooked.

"My ex-girlfriend suggested I might be gay," Duo said.

"You are gay."

"Says you," Duo replied, coloring slightly.

"I hate to break it to you, Duo, but after last night, I don't know how you can doubt it."

Duo noticed he said doubt rather than deny. "Are all your clients gay?"

"No," Heero said. As Duo started to open his mouth, he added, "Some are women." Part of him wanted to laugh at Duo's irritated expression. "Duo, it's really none of my business whether they prefer men or women or monkeys. As long as they have the money and don't expect me to do anything I'm uncomfortable with, it's a moot point."

"Earlier I said you weren't very talkative, didn't I?" Duo groaned. Heero smirked at him slightly. "Fine. Whatever. I'm not going to debate it with you. Seeing as we're on the topic of money, I think it's pretty obvious that I have it. Lots of it."

"It will be once you pay me," Heero commented, earning a dark look from Duo.

"Let me cut to the chase, Heero. I will be here until Sunday. I will be expected to attend business functions and schmooze fests so boring they could make you cry. I also have women fawning over themselves, and now that I'm single again, I just don't need that. Besides, now that my sexual preference is in question among my peers, if what you and Hilde say is true, then the silver lining is that now I have a way to get these vulture women off my back once and for all."

"They'll try to convert you," Heero said.

"I think I liked you better when you were quiet," Duo sighed.

"Most of them do." There was no question as to who Heero was referring to when he said 'them,' and Duo once again felt a pang of something akin to anger to think of all the others who had enjoyed Heero before him.

"Listen, here's what I want," he stated. "Tell me how much it would be to hire you as my escort for a full week."

"Define the parameters of this full week," Heero said, looking like he was actually considering it.

"Days, nights, various functions and sponsored outings," Duo ticked off on his fingers.

"Extracurricular activities?" Heero asked, tilting his head in the direction of the bedroom.

"If that's what I think I need," Duo replied honestly. "I warned you that I wasn't exactly sure, but I'm willing to pay enough to insure I have a chance of getting it."  
  
"It's a pretty steep price," Heero warned him.

"Me, big shot millionaire. You, service provider," Duo said, pointing first to himself then to Heero. He chuckled at Heero's scowl. "Anyone ever tell you you're adorable when you pout?"

"I don't pout," Heero said, then proceeded to do exactly that.

"How much, Heero?"

Heero's eyes fixed at a spot on the ceiling as he calculated an amount in his head. Duo had a bad feeling when those 'adorably pouty' lips curved up in a slight smile.

"Ten thousand dollars."

"Ten thousand dollars," Duo repeated calmly. "TEN thousand."

Heero nodded, and Duo prided himself on his ability to remain unfazed in the middle of heated arguments over multi-million dollar deals, because he knew when he was being fleeced. He'd pretty much expected that Heero would try to milk him for everything he had, but what had he expected after basically telling Heero he had money to burn. The man was obviously going for shock value.

"Five," he countered.

"You're _haggling_?" Heero asked incredulously.

Duo repressed the urge to laugh outright at the offended expression on Heero's face. "C'mon, Heero, don't tell me you've never had anyone try to talk you down before."

Heero sighed deeply. "Nine."

"Eight, and we have a deal."

Heero's eyes narrowed, obviously surprised that Duo hadn't tried to knock the price down even further. "Eight, plus the thousand you owe me from yesterday. Half up front, half at the end of this contract."

"Agreeable," Duo said amiably. "Do we shake on this or something? Or do you have more interesting ways to seal a deal in your line of work?" If he didn't know any better, he'd have sworn Heero blushed slightly.

"It seems as if we will have to trust each other," Heero finally said.

"I don't trust anyone," Duo said.

"Neither do I," Heero countered.

"So we have a deal then?"

Heero sighed again. "Yes, Duo, we have a deal."

Duo grinned at him, wondering if he should tell Heero that he would have paid the entire ten grand, but decided against it. He punched in the programmed code on the keypad for the wall safe, pulled out a wad of bills, and counted them out onto the table.

"Dinner tonight is formal," Duo said. "Therefore you'll need suitable attire. I've included extra to cover any costs you'll incur. All incidentals and gifts you acquire during the duration of our agreement are yours to keep. I will probably introduce you as my brother this evening, because the man we're meeting with has some major hard on for businesses that are run by family men. I've got to run, but I'll talk to you later." He grabbed his jacket from a nearby chair, threw it over his shoulder, and walked toward the door. Halfway there, he slowed his pace.

"Heero," he called without turning around.

"Yes?"

"Just so you know...I hired you, not Lorelei Lee." With that cryptic comment, he left Heero alone in the room.

Heero released the breath he had been holding when he heard the lock on the door engage.

He stared at the pile of money on the table, then picked it up and counted it. He hadn't seen a pile of money like this in his life.

He felt a pang in the region of his heart. At least, the ghost of his past whispered, not a pile of his own hard earned money. He firmly tamped down on the memories threatening to emerge.

He placed the money carefully on the table, and rubbed a hand over his eyes. He should have his head examined for agreeing to this. It wasn't likely that he'd be recognized, but there were risks in keeping company with the same group of people for prolonged periods of time.

He finally convinced himself that he'd done what he had to, desperate times calling for desperate measures and all. He could do this. He'd certainly been in more dangerous situations.

'Speaking of desperate,' he thought, eyeing the desk phone. He might need to sit down for this. Hell, he was probably going to have a headache by the time he was done. He headed for the bedroom instead, propping himself up with a pillow before reaching over and picking up the phone.

~~~~~~~

Quatre was sitting at the bar, reaching over and stealing maraschino cherries and cocktail olives from the garnish tray. The brown-haired bartender slapped his hand with the end of the bar towel, and Quatre gave him a sheepish grin before reaching for the nearby bowl of pretzels instead.

"They'll make you thirsty," he was warned.

"Don't worry," Quatre said, waving a pretzel in the air for emphasis. "I have an 'in' with the bartender. He always gives me free drinks."

"That's because you don't drink. Water is pretty cheap."

"Yeah, like free," Quatre said, rolling his eyes. "That's Heero," he added. The brunette looked at him questioningly, but before he could ask for clarification, the phone rang, and he answered it with a shrug in Quatre's direction. "Heavy Arms."

He heard the sound of a soft chuckle on the other side of the phone. "Don't tell me you're listening to Quatre and have actually changed the name of the pub."

"No," the brunette answered. "I listened to Quatre and knew it was you. I assume this call is for him." Quatre grinned at him before reaching over and grabbing another cherry, sticking out his tongue and placing the small red sphere on there as if taunting the other man's inability to react quickly enough. He closed his eyes as he bit into the tiny fruit.

"Brains AND beauty," Heero said. "You're a gem, Trowa. What are you doing hanging around the likes of Quatre?"

Quatre opened his eyes, reached into his mouth, and pulled out the cherry stem, brandishing it like a trophy, then held out his other hand. "Trade ya," he said, winking at Trowa.

The cherry stem was double knotted right in its center.

"He has his good points," Trowa replied, handing the phone over to his friend.

"Where were you last night, Heero? I was worried sick about you!" Quatre scolded into the phone.

On the other end of the conversation, Heero shook his head. Knowing Quatre, he was probably out all night himself, trying to recoup his gambling losses before sneaking into the apartment early in the morning only to discover his roommate hadn't returned.

"Conducting business, remember?" Heero said.

"Ah, yes," Quatre said, nibbling on the end of a pretzel thoughtfully. "The Enzo. Was it all you dreamed it would be?"

"The car, or the client?"

"Both."

"Fast. Hard. Handled like a dream."

Quatre grinned, earning an upraised eyebrow from Trowa. "The car, or the client?"

"Quatre, this is important," Heero said, not wanting to discuss how well Duo handled, or how well Duo had returned the favor in handling HIM. "I won't be back for about a week, but I have some money for you."

"You're not in the hospital, are you?" Quatre fretted. "What happened after you finished your business with Daddy Warbucks?"

"The service contract is ongoing," Heero said. "But I needed to call you to let you know-"

"No, no, no, Heero. Don't try to distract me. Spill. You know I'll get my way in the end, so save yourself the aggravation and just tell me."

Heero sighed. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately. Quatre was right, though, damn him. He had a knack for manipulating people into doing things so well, they often forgot that it hadn't been their idea in the first place. That's why turning tricks was easy for him. Half the time he didn't even have to go through with any form of sexual act, managing to make a good number of clients think that they'd really only wanted to talk, and cheerfully paying for the opportunity. If he hadn't fallen for Quatre's tactics himself when they first met, he never would have believed it. That was probably why Trowa stayed on his good side.

Yet, for all Quatre's strategic manipulation, the man could not play a decent game of cards to save his skin. Quatre insisted that he was adept at picking up on all his opponents' tells. Heero had responded that for someone who sometimes predicted odd things like phone calls and the winning teams in various sporting events, he should be able to predict the outcome of poker games. Then he suggested perhaps Quatre just forego poker altogether and start betting on football pools. Quatre had been incredibly offended, looking at Heero with big puppy dog eyes and saying that doing that would be nothing more than CHEATING. Heero had heard the capital letters in that last word when Quatre said it, too.

When he'd first met the blond, he'd been surprised that someone like Quatre was a prostitute. Then he looked at his own reasons for agreeing to give it a try, and decided that he was in no position to pass judgement.

"I don't have time to get into details, Quatre," he said forcefully. "But I am staying at the Regent Beverly Wilshire." Quatre's appreciative whistle made him wince. "I'm leaving some money for you, but make sure you collect it before the next shift starts, so the receptionist will know to recognize you. Unless you want to show some ID," he added.

He could visualize the vehement shake Quatre was most likely giving his head right now.

"No, no, I got it," Quatre said. Then, "You really have money? How much?"

"Enough," Heero said dryly. "I have a lot to take care of today, and I'd just as soon get it over with, so don't forget."

"I never forget when it comes to money," Quatre said. "Do I need to show up with a rose in my buttonhole?"

"Bite me," Heero muttered, only to receive a delighted laugh from his friend.

"Oh, Heero, you know I never give freebies," Quatre said. "I'll be there, don't worry. You'd better get going."

"Roger that," Heero said, wincing as the words slipped past his lips.

"You OK, Heero?" Quatre asked suddenly.

"Fine. Just wondering if I have time to get everything done."

"Alright," Quatre said, but Heero could hear the disbelief in his voice. "You'd better take a shower and get going."

It wasn't until he hung up the phone that Heero wondered how the hell Quatre knew that he hadn't yet showered, then decided it was probably a safe assumption, considering the reason he hadn't shown up at their apartment the night before.

He walked out of the bedroom, and his eyes fell on Duo's laptop, which had been left on.

Lorelei Lee, was it?

Heero looked around as if he expected Duo to catch him in the act, then sat down at the desk and caressed the keyboard for a moment. With a look of determination, he began to type.

tbc


	5. Communication

****

The Edulcoration of Duo Maxwell - 5/?

~~~~~~~

Note: This fic is a response to Nova Una's challenge to the 1x2ML to write a Gundam Wing/Pretty Woman fusion fic with Heero in the Julia Roberts role and Duo in the Richard Gere role.

Warnings: AU (duh), yaoi (double duh), language, citrusy situations, suggestive dialog, _significant_ deviation from Pretty Woman script, although it bears enough similarities to still be considered a fusion.

Spoilers: None for GW, oodles for Pretty Woman, to an extent.

Disclaimer: I don't really need to be Captain Obvious here, do I? No ownership, no profit.

__

Edulcorate (verb)- To free from harshness (as of attitude) or to soften

~~~~~~~

****

Chapter 5 - Communication

Heero's fingers flew over the keyboard as if he'd been born seated at a computer, and within moments he was viewing a list of search results on Lorelei Lee. The first few hits had him puzzled and somewhat offended, until he saw the next one.

Which was a review of the movie Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, starring Marilyn Monroe as Lorelei Lee.

That had to be the reference Duo was making, Heero thought, his eyes flicking over to the blond wig draped over a chair. But Duo said he HADN'T hired Lorelei Lee. So, no wig?

He got up and fingered the jagged bangs on his wig, running his other hand through his own mop of hair. They were markedly different, the wig having an impossibly smooth texture, and his own hair coarse and thick. He frowned slightly, then walked into the bathroom, where he couldn't help perusing the variety of hair care products Duo had.

There weren't many. An industrial sized bottle of conditioner, and a smaller bottle of shampoo of the same brand in the shower. Most likely the two of them alone cost more than Heero made in one night. Excepting the night before, of course, but most of Heero's johns didn't want more than a quick hand or blow job, sometimes in a car or alley. Heero didn't do any jobs out in public. The risks of getting caught were much higher, and entanglements with local law enforcement he didn't need. He wondered if Duo would mind if he borrowed his hair brush, then shrugged and used it anyway before climbing into the shower. He was surprised at the way the bristles had massaged his scalp. Most likely some type of designer brush, as well.

As he lathered himself, he thought of what he needed to do in preparation for his first assignment of the week.

~~~~~~

Duo was leafing through several pages of a report he'd been handed earlier that day, making notes in the margins and frowning slightly on occasion. Wufei poked his head in the door.

"Duo."

Duo waved him in and threw the stapled pages on his desk in disgust. "I don't know why they think anyone would pay them so much as a farthing for a business that they've systematically run into the ground. Normally this is good news for us, but they have really little in the way of saleable components."

Wufei suppressed the urge to grin. Duo had that affect on him. Most people thought he lacked any real intelligence, but that was an image Duo cultivated. It worked to his advantage to have people underestimate him before he went in for the kill. Of course, people never made that mistake twice, but the ones who did usually weren't in a position to worry about it later.

They made a good team, he thought with satisfaction. Duo called it the good cop, bad cop approach, but in the end, both of them were ruthless when the need called for it.

That reminded him of what he was doing there in the first place.

"Peacecraft is expecting you for dinner at the Samurai, seven o'clock sharp."

"The Samurai? That's an unusual choice."

"I think he's going for neutral territory," Wufei shrugged. "Perhaps he thinks you have spies in the food service industry, and haven't had time to plant any in a newer restaurant."

Duo grinned at him briefly. "Anything else I need to know, Chang?" he said, his voice all business. Wufei started at the emotionless tone, and shook his head as he noticed Duo's eyes twinkling a bit. 

"No."

"Wufei..." the warning was there in Duo's voice.

Duo knew very well his partner was concerned about his parting comment the previous evening about showing Peacecraft 'family,' and to be honest, he really couldn't blame the man. Wufei knew that it was a sore spot for Duo, who refused to talk about his background. The little that Wufei had managed to learn over the past few years was that Duo had gotten where he was through a combination of grit, determination, and, like all successful businessmen, a dash of dumb luck at just the right time.

"Do you trust me?" Duo asked.

Wufei repressed a sigh. "Yes. I wouldn't be working with you on a job of this size if I didn't, would I?"

Duo laughed, and Wufei noticed that it lacked some of the usual humor.

"Don't be late," he finally said, only to earn a dirty look in response.

Once Wufei left, Duo picked up the pages of the discarded report and tapped them against his thigh as he thought.

He should let Heero know what time he needed to be ready, because from the look of the stack of papers on his desk, he wasn't going to be able to get back to the hotel in time to tell him in person.

He picked up the phone and waited impatiently for the receptionist to dial his room. It rang several times before the automated voice asked if he'd like to leave a message. He frowned. Where the hell was Heero?

He decided the man was most likely in the shower, and looked at his watch. He'd call back in ten minutes.

~~~~~~

Heero hung up the towel he'd used, and walked around the room as he waited for his legs to air dry enough to put the leather pants on. He glanced at the laptop again. Well, it wasn't like he could leave the room wearing nothing more than his wig, and what else was he going to do until he could put his pants on?

He didn't do much upscale shopping, so it would help if he had an idea of where to go to obtain the necessary attire for this evening. He nodded to himself. Duo would WANT him to take advantage of the tools at his disposal in obtaining what he needed.

Besides, he'd already used it once.

He'd just pulled up a list of formal wear shops in the area and was skimming them to see which were the most conveniently located when the phone rang. He glanced at it, then shrugged. Duo hadn't told him to answer the phone, and it was just bad form to be that presumptuous.

~~~~~~

Duo looked at his watch and frowned. Had Heero left already? He hung up the phone and stared for a moment, then mentally slapped himself on the head.

Of course Heero was not going to answer the phone. If he had, then he'd have to explain who he was, and it was obvious that Heero prided himself on being the best at what he did. He was sure not many of Heero's clients would appreciate explaining to a wife or girlfriend or boss who they were sharing a room with, if even for an hour.

He glanced at his watch again. Damn it. He supposed he could send a message up to the room, but really didn't want to get others involved. He was probably going to have to leave earlier than he'd planned on. He should have foreseen this.

He turned back to the desktop computer in his office. Maybe he could leave early if he e-mailed some of the files to his laptop. 

His laptop.

A smile curved Duo's lips as an idea occurred to him.

~~~~~~

A pop up window suddenly appeared on the screen, and Heero's fingers pulled back in alarm.

"Instant Message received from user maxwelld@mcei.com. Do you wish to accept?"

Heero ignored it. He couldn't click NO, because if he did, someone would later tell Duo that they'd been blocked from sending messages. He clicked on the browser again, determined to get the information he needed before someone else tried to contact him.

"Instant Message received from user maxwelld@mcei.com.... Do you wish to accept?"

Heero frowned. Either maxwelld was very persistent, or the instant messenger program was set to provide periodic reminders of the message until it was acknowledged, in case the message arrived while the user was away from the computer.

The first thing was to determine maxwelld's identity. He first opened Duo's e-mail program. There, in Duo's contact list, was "Work e-mail" and next to it maxwelld@mcei.com."

What were the odds that Duo ever received instant messages from himself? It would explain why the program wasn't automatically accepting the message.

Damned if he did, damned if he didn't. With a sigh of resignation, he clicked on YES.

"What are you doing on my computer, Heero?"

Heero frowned briefly, then typed his reply.

"What do you want, Duo?"

"Succinct as always." A pause. "Meet me in the lobby at 6."

Heero's reply was immediate.

"Are you sure you don't want a female date?"

"No. You."

"Cross dressing won't cost you extra."

Duo frowned at the message that displayed on his screen. He supposed he might be flattered that Heero was willing to dress as a woman for him, to play up to Peacecraft's fondness for family men, but he was also insulted that Heero would think that he was worried about the money.

But now that Heero brought it up...

No. Absolutely not. He prided himself on misdirection more than outright lying, and trying to play Heero off as a woman would be a mistake, no matter how he looked at it. He didn't think those arms of Heero's, slender yet well formed, would fool anyone, really. He supposed that Heero could wear something long sleeved. He had no idea what Heero might look like dressed as a woman.

Nor did he have any particular desire to.

"No. Get a damn tux and deal with it."

"Your wish is my command."

Duo grinned. Heero's sarcasm was evident in that last reply, even though it was basically true, at least until Sunday.

"Six o'clock" he reiterated.

"Mission parameters acknowledged." This time Duo laughed outright.

"See you then. And Heero?"

"You're going to make me type out the word WHAT aren't you?"

"You take the fun out of things. Just wanted to let you know I don't mind if you use the computer. Bookmark any good porn sites you find."

There was no response, and Duo wondered if Heero had actually been insulted by that last part. Was he this uptight with all the men he serviced?

Then the message window revealed one word.

"Thanks."

Duo smiled and closed the instant message program.

~~~~~~

Heero blinked at the screen. He'd half-expected the teasing about the porn sites, but not the outright permission. Duo hadn't been angry?

His fingers rested idly on the keyboard for a moment before he shook his head. He had to get that tuxedo, and he hadn't yet picked out which formal wear shop he was going to visit. One within walking distance, most certainly.

Another message window popped up. Duo must have realized he'd forgotten something. Heero decided that he'd take the liberty of changing the messenger settings to automatically receive messages from maxwelld@mcei.com. His hand moved over the touchpad to click on the message while his eyes skimmed the description of one of the shops. He was therefore surprised to realize that the message was not from Duo, but from someone who had sent Duo a website link. Instead of clicking on YES to accept the message, he'd inadvertently clicked on the link.

He cursed loudly. He never made sloppy mistakes like this. That thought sent an unexpected wave of pain through him, one that he forced himself to ignore.

Then he realized the link was a jpeg image of Duo and a female with short dark hair, and he forgot to breathe. 

He closed his eyes to block the image from his sight, then opened them slowly. The image was still there, not that he'd expected anything different. Hope had a funny way of defying logic, and here he'd thought he'd given up hope a long time ago. Then he actually studied the woman standing with Duo at an obviously formal event.

The hair coloring was the same, even though it looked a bit longer in the front than when he'd last seen her, and it was impossible to tell what her eye color was in the photo, but the woman in the photo was obviously shorter than Duo. He breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn't her. He studied the rest of her features just to reassure himself of that fact.

Thoroughly convinced, he rested his elbows on the desk and dropped his chin onto his clasped hands. His eyes closed for a moment, then he opened them again, looking at the photo from a new perspective.

Although Duo was standing with his arm around the woman, Heero got the impression that there was some sort of distance between them. They were both smiling at someone off camera, the woman looking as if she had been captured in the middle of saying something.

Was this the ex-girlfriend?

Someone had created a caption for the photo in the lower right hand margin. It was typed using a white font that was supposed to resemble handwriting. Heero could read "Winter Fundraiser 20" and the rest of the year was cropped off. It was obvious the caption hadn't been positioned properly on the photo. He couldn't help the little snort he gave at the sloppy workmanship. 

Well, what did he do with this now? It hadn't been intended for his eyes. He closed the browser window containing the photo and focused his attention on the instant message that he'd originally thought from Duo to find out the source of the picture. It was a place to start.

Then the screen went black.

He blinked at it a few times, but it still remained dark. His fingers ghosted over the touchpad, but he had a sinking feeling he knew what he was going to see when he looked down at the keyboard.

The power indicator light was off.

When the hell was the last time this thing had been charged, anyway? What good did it do him now? He opened the desk drawer, and sure enough, there was a power cord in it. Heero flicked the switch to the off position before connecting the cord. He could use the cord as either a charger or a power source, but he knew that, as far as that instant message went, it was a lost cause. At least he'd had enough time to determine that the woman in the photo wasn't who he'd thought she was.

The same thing would have happened whether he had been sitting at the computer or not, he decided, and therefore he couldn't be held accountable for the loss of the photo. He left the switch on the power cord set to recharge. He wondered why Duo was using the computer's portable battery instead of just leaving it plugged into the desk, until he realized that the recharge indicator on the power cord was not lit up.

It seemed to be a common theme today, Heero thought, and he searched for another outlet. Which was near enough to leave the computer on the table so it wouldn't need to be disconnected from the network connection, but in a location that left the cord trailing underneath the desk, where it would interfere with the user's legs. Heero cursed the faulty outlet under the desk, but was relieved to have something menial to focus on.

Why hadn't Duo reported the problem with the outlet at the front desk? The penthouse suite was the best of the best, and he couldn't imagine Duo accepting anything less.

Of course, Duo had been a bit preoccupied last night, to put it mildly.

He'd wasted enough time. He grabbed the leather pants, silk shirt, and platinum wig and decided he would just go to the formal shop they'd passed when he drove Duo here the night before.

Just peachy.

tbc

~~~~~~

It goes without saying that I don't own the flick or the book Gentlemen Prefer Blondes anymore than I owe Gundam Wing or any of its characters. In case you were wondering, Lorelei Lee was a blonde "paid companion" in a story set in the early 20th century. In case you were FURTHER wondering what results might confuse or offend Heero, try doing a search for Lorelei Lee and see what kinds of results you obtain. Ironically, the very first search result I clicked on contained errrr...graphic photos...


	6. Confrontations

****

The Edulcoration of Duo Maxwell - 6/?

~~~~~~~

Warnings (for the series): AU (duh), yaoi (double duh), language, citrusy situations, suggestive dialog, mild angst, _significant_ deviation from Pretty Woman script, although it bears enough similarities to still be considered a fusion.

Disclaimer: I don't really need to be Captain Obvious here, do I? No ownership, no profit.

Spoilers: None for GW, oodles for Pretty Woman, to an extent.

__

Edulcorate (verb)- To free from harshness (as of attitude) or to soften

~~~~~~~

****

Chapter 6 - Confrontations

Heero's strides carried him to the registration desk of the lobby, and the woman behind the counter looked up at him with a standard issue "service-with-a-smile" expression in place. Heero handed her a sealed enveloped with bold handwriting on the front.

"A friend of mine will be here today to pick this up," he stated. She nodded, the smile drooping a little at the commanding tone of his voice. "His name is Quatre Raberba, and you will insure that he receives it." His eyes narrowed. "And it will be sealed when he does."

The woman's throat went dry, and she nodded again. Heero inclined his head slightly, then left as quickly as he'd arrived.

She shivered. His look had promised the most dire of consequences if the envelope wasn't safely delivered. She couldn't help but watching as the man moved across the lobby. It was a shame that not all men could pull off wearing leather, but this one most certainly could. It was even more evident during his departure than his approach.

She sighed, then pulled out a key from under the desk. As she locked the envelope away for safe keeping, she shook her head. Her roommate was right. She _did_ have a thing for dangerous men.

~~~~~~~

Heero made his way through the crowd, his peripheral vision noting the presence of others but not slowing down, moving only as much as necessary to avoid bumping into anyone. At one point he had to wait for several luggage carts to be wheeled past, and he looked around impatiently.

He recognized an elderly couple approaching a man who had just emerged from an office door that opened into the lobby. They had been part of the group giving him disapproving looks while Duo and he waited for the elevator the night before. His eyes automatically flicked to the person they were talking to, registering the contrast between the man's tailored khaki-colored suit and brightly colored tie to the attire worn by other hotel employees. Heero's path was clear as the procession of luggage carts came to an end, and he resumed walking until he was outside, where he blinked a few times in the harsh sunlight. He flicked the blonde bangs out of his eyes and determinedly walked down Wilshire Boulevard toward North Beverly Drive.

~~~~~~~~

Duo ate his lunch at his desk, one hand rapidly clicking the delete button to rid his Inbox of various unsolicited e-mails. If he found out how his e-mail address got onto these bulk mailing lists, he'd kill the person responsible. 

"Bad news, Duo," Wufei said without preamble, walking into his office and leaning over Duo with both hands flat on his desk.

"Really. Good thing I just ate, I'd hate to ruin my appetite."

Wufei scowled at Duo's nonchalant attitude, even though he knew that Duo was every bit as concerned as he was. He stood up straight and turned around to lean against the desk, crossing his arms across his chest, deliberately turning his back to Duo.

"Zodiac has been sniffing around Peacecraft's company. Rumor has it they are looking to expand their pharmaceuticals division, and if they offer Peacecraft a contract, our plan won't have a chance."

"Shit. The Omnificent, Omnipotent, Omniscient, and Omni-everything Zodiac?"

"The same," Wufei said disgustedly. "This doesn't look good, Duo."

"Anyone ever tell you that you need to lay off the drama, Chang?" Duo said. Before Wufei could come back with a biting comment, he added, "pharmaceuticals, huh?" His tone made Wufei turn around and stare at Duo, who was looking thoughtfully at the ceiling.

"Know the worst part about business?" Duo mused. "Red tape? No. Not that. Government agencies." When Wufei looked like he was going to question Duo further, he moved back to his computer, one hand on the keyboard, the other on his phone. "I've got work to do."

Wufei bristled at the dismissal, but if his partner had an idea, he wasn't going to interfere.

~~~~~~~

Heero glared at the sales associate at Prada Men.

"I'm sorry, sir," the nervous employee said, wringing his hands. "It's store policy."

It was true that many shops on Rodeo Drive were so exclusive, shopping was by reservation only, but Heero hadn't expected this place to be one of them.

The place wasn't even that busy. Heero seethed inwardly. He'd hoped to intimidate the little man, but he reminded himself that these folks were used to catering to self centered, ill-tempered celebrities.

He spied a group of dark-haired businessmen examining some of the merchandise on display, and watched them for a while. When one of them turned so he was facing Heero, he realized all was not lost yet, since there was opportunity staring him right in the face. He'd have to identify himself, but he knew the risks of that being a problem were next to zero, considering who they were. Setting his face in a mask of determination, he strode over to them. When he reached them, his features softened. He bowed his head slightly and spoke a few words, his voice low and respectful. 

The salesman tried to pretend he was straightening the lapel on a jacket nearby, and tilted his head toward the speakers slightly. He thought he heard something that sounded like oh-gee-san, but since he didn't speak even a smidgen of Japanese, he wasn't sure what that meant. He quickly returned to his previous position as the men who weren't engaged in conversation caught him trying to eavesdrop. The eyes of one of the men lit up in either recognition or acknowledgement after the dangerous looking young man spoke. He replied, bowing his head in return, and a few rapidly exchanged phrases later, the two of them returned to the salesman, the dangerous looking one a respectful distance behind the older gentleman.

"Mr. Hitomi?" the man squeaked as they approached, his eyes flicking toward Heero nervously.

"This gentleman is in need of assistance," Hitomi said simply. No explanation was given, but the implication was clear. Hitomi wasn't facing Heero, but the salesman was. Heero's lips curled in an almost feral grin at the look of shocked amazement that flitted across the man's face.

"Certainly, Mr. Hitomi," he said, then turned to Heero, who was extending his thanks to the gentleman. When Heero faced him again, he swallowed nervously, then asked, "how may I help you, sir?"

~~~~~~~

Heero walked into the lobby of the luxury hotel with a garment bag over his shoulder, and scowled fiercely.

How the hell was he going to get back in the room?

The elevator operator recognized him, and his eyes grew wide with alarm. He remembered the longhaired man, the penthouse hotel guest, and the way he'd ignored him and punched the button to close the doors. The blond-haired man had been with him, and had looked fit to kill someone. He'd breathed more easily once they'd reached the top floor and the others had exited the cramped space. By then, the hotel employee had hazarded a tentative guess at the nature of the relationship between the two men, but as was expected of him, he kept his opinions to himself. It was hard not to shiver as Heero walked onto the elevator as if he had every right to be there. Which he apparently did.

When they reached the penthouse floor, Heero stepped out without looking back and waited for the elevator doors to close, then he walked to the door and crouched next to it to examine the lock.

He had nothing with him, and a quick search of the alcove did nothing to improve his situation.

His mood wasn't any better when he got back to the ground floor, still carrying the garment bag. His fingers tightened briefly on the hanger as his eyes scanned the lobby. He spotted the man in the khaki business suit, which Heero now recognized as an Armani, thanks to the suit that one of Hitomi-san's colleagues had been wearing.

"Can I help you?" the man asked, approaching Heero, one hand reaching up to stroke the neatly trimmed beard at his chin.

Heero was surprised at the informal speech the man used. He studied the man appraisingly. He was considerably older than Duo, but nowhere near as old as the couple he'd been speaking with earlier. He was mostly bald, but almost proudly so, with the graying hair at his temples practically dominating his entire head. The bright fuchsia tie had a repeating pattern of what looked like tiny green palm trees, if you looked closely.

He was not what Heero expected to find working in a hotel of this caliber, but maybe that would work in his favor.

"I need to get into the penthouse," Heero said without preamble.

"No can do," came the casual reply. "Not without ID and your name on the room registration." He looked at Heero almost accusingly.

Heero wracked his brain. What was Duo's e-mail address again?

"I'm here with Duo Maxwell," he said, gritting his teeth to avoid strangling the man who seemed to have all day to determine Heero's chances of success in getting ready in time for Duo's little dinner engagement.

"You are, are you?" It was clear that the man didn't believe him.

"Howard," a woman interrupted timidly. "There's a phone call for you."

"Wait one moment," Howard told him. "Unless you have somewhere else you need to be."

Heero didn't care for the implied slur, but shook his head. He should have charged Duo the entire ten thousand.

Howard took the call. When he heard the voice on the other side, he looked up at Heero, and then said into the phone, "looks like he's ready to snap someone in two?" He nodded at whatever was said on the other end, then hung up the receiver.

"Mr. Maxwell has requested that I provide you with access to his room," he said, not at all embarrassed. Heero was confused. Hadn't the man just looked down on him, guessing what he was? Not that he wanted anyone to question his relationship with Duo, whatever Duo decided that relationship was going to be for the duration of the week.

"Anything else I can do for you?" Howard asked him.

Heero fingered the blond strands of hair at the side of his face thoughtfully.

"Yes."

~~~~~~~

Duo wasn't very happy that he'd had to call the hotel to let someone know that Heero was staying with him in the end. He couldn't believe he'd forgotten about the keycard. He prayed the man who'd greeted him that morning was still there, because he looked like he'd be the most laid back of all the hotel employees, with his casual manner in dealing with the guests. Duo had chatted with the man briefly shortly when he asked for transportation to be brought around. He imagined if he'd had a father, he'd have wanted someone like Howard.

Thankfully the old guy had reacted as Duo had hoped, which was not to react at all. All Howard had wanted was to confirm that the person requesting admittance to Duo's room was the same young man that was standing in the lobby looking incredibly pissed.

He supposed it could be worse.

Fortunately they were going to be on time for Peacecraft's infernal dinner. He'd taken a shower in the executive suite and donned his own formal attire. He was curious to see Heero in something other than his leather pants. Not that he minded the view. He frowned at that thought, not liking the implications.

He looked around the lobby, only half expecting to see Heero's blond wig, if he hadn't gotten the Lorelei Lee reference. He had faith in Heero's ability to figure it out, although there was really no reason for him to do so. He realized that a raven-haired man seated at the bar was staring at him, and at first he thought it was Wufei, until he realized that the nose was much smaller, and the cut of the suit was not something that his partner would wear. This man's lips were also more inviting, and he felt himself grow warm. It made him uncomfortable. Then the man stood up and started to walk toward him, and he realized it was Heero. In a damn black wig.

The dark hair of the wig was smoothed away from Heero's brow with a few stray wisps covering his forehead, and the rest was pulled back into a tight little ponytail, just like Wufei's. As he got closer to Heero, Duo noticed the dark brown contact lenses as well. He looked damn good, Duo hated to admit, but he couldn't help feeling a bit disappointed at the same time.

He stood there awkwardly, not quite sure what to do. If Heero had been a woman, he'd have offered his arm for her to take, but he was at a loss. Heero leaned close to him, and Duo started to panic. Was Heero going to _kiss_ him? HERE?

"We're going to be late," Heero breathed in his ear as he walked past him. Duo just watched him go for several seconds before he followed.

Heero waited for him at the entrance, while Duo explained that this was a very important client, and that no matter what Duo said, it was important that Heero go along with him. Heero had his bored expression on, and Duo wondered, not for the first time, if he'd made a mistake. Then he thought of spending the entire evening alone with Milliardo Peacecraft, especially after the way Wufei had complained about him, and decided that nothing could be worse than that.

tbc

~~~~~~~

I admit it. I know nothing about Japanese etiquette, and I know nothing about Rodeo Drive other than there really ARE stores that require reservations just to SHOP there. I highly doubt Prada Men is one of them, but I'll leave it up to you to decide whether that's my using artistic license or the sales peon being a complete weenie to Heero. I did read somewhere that it was VERY common for Japanese tourists to spend an exorbitant amount of money at Prada Men. Go figure. Seems I'm forgetting a couple other "I'm an ignoramus" disclaimers down here, but I'm sure you'll figure 'em out, and if not, go me!

Updates from hereon out may be a bit appearing less frequently, as I am trying not to rush through my setting the stage for what comes later. Emphasis on _trying_.

Today's vocabulary lesson:

__

Omnificent - creating all things (all creating)  
_Omnipotent_ - infinite in power (all powerful)  
_Omniscient_ - having infinite or extensive knowledge (all knowing)


	7. Manipulation

****

The Edulcoration of Duo Maxwell - 7/?

~~~~~~~

Note: This fic is a response to Nova Una's challenge to write Gundam Wing/Pretty Woman fusion fic with Heero in the Julia Roberts role and Duo in the Richard Gere role.

Warnings: AU (duh), yaoi (double duh), language, citrusy situations (hey, part of the challenge DID mention lemon!), suggestive dialog, _significant_ deviation from Pretty Woman script, although it bears enough similarities to still be considered a fusion. Lime in this chapter.

Spoilers: None for GW, oodles for Pretty Woman, to an extent.

Disclaimer: I don't really need to be Captain Obvious here, do I? No ownership, no profit.

__

Edulcorate (verb)- To free from harshness (as of attitude) or to soften

~~~~~~~

****

Chapter 7 - Manipulation

Peacecraft was, of course, already there waiting for them when they arrived. Except he wasn't alone.

The first thing Duo noticed was the waist length platinum hair. It was uncannily like the wig Heero had been wearing the night before, except the white eyebrows that were upturned curiously left no doubt that it was indeed Peacecraft's natural color. His eyes traveled toward Heero, and noticed that Heero was surprised as well, as evidenced by the very slight widening of his eyes.

Standing next to Peacecraft was a young woman with equally long hair, although hers was a soft brown shade, almost blonde. The sides were gathered loosely, and her bangs were much less reckless than her brother's, but the family resemblance was evident in the determined set of her jaw.

"Gentlemen," Milliardo greeted them, extending a hand. Duo shook his hand firmly, then released it. When Peacecraft turned to Heero, Duo could feel the tension in his body as he hesitated ever so briefly before reluctantly accepting the handshake.

Heero hated shaking hands. A handshake was too intimate for strangers to share. Skin-to-skin contact, a clasping of body parts that meant so many things to so many people. Handshakes were considered absolutely binding in many circles, akin to a blood oath, and yet others regarded them as mere formalities. The gesture was too ambiguous for Heero's liking. He'd sooner let Peacecraft fuck him than shake his hand. Assuming the man was going to pay him, of course.

He could feel Duo's disapproval, and knew he'd failed at hiding his hesitation, but he couldn't help it. Part of him could still hear his grandfather's voice in the back of his head instructing him at a very young age the appropriate way to greet someone. He knew that wasn't the root of his discomfort, but at least it was something tangible he could blame. He hated having problems that couldn't be traced to a definable source.

Peacecraft was introducing the young woman as his sister, Relena. She smiled at Heero, and he bowed to her slightly. Duo almost expected her to drop into a curtsy.

Duo turned his attention back to Milliardo. "This is Heero," he said belatedly, already feeling as if he were being forced into some macabre dance. When Peacecraft quirked an eyebrow at him, Duo said, "he is a very close friend." Let the blond make of that what he would, Duo thought. He was going to change the musical score for their little stage playing. He felt a thrill of excitement at the challenge.

They all sat down following the introductions, with Duo seated across from Heero and to the right of Peacecraft.

He watched the mildly enraptured look on Relena's face as she turned to face Heero and started telling him about her upcoming birthday. He barely registered that she'd stopped talking and that Milliardo was speaking, and he winced inwardly until he realized that the words were not addressed to him.

"...customs, and I apologize if it made you uncomfortable," he was saying. "It was incredibly rude of me."

Heero bowed his head in acknowledgement. Peacecraft seemed to recognize that he did not need to explain himself further, and then their food arrived.

Duo's attention was riveted on Heero, who was carefully explaining the various bowls and plates to Relena, who seemed smitten. Duo couldn't blame her. Heero was an extraordinarily good looking man. He wondered what her brother would think if he knew that his sister had developed a teensy crush on a whore.

Watching Heero, it struck Duo that his companion would have made a damn fine geisha, if he were a woman. Up until now, he had not assumed anything about Heero's past, including his ethnic background. It really didn't mean anything, and it had little to do with why Duo had hired him. However, the tightly drawn raven hair made the slight tilt of his eyes that Duo had first noticed in the car all the more evident. That, and the way he handled the chopsticks with precision and grace, suggested that he was of Japanese descent. Duo would never have guessed that the brown eyes were anything but Heero's natural color, so well did they compliment the image before him.

If a simple handshake bothered him that much, what the hell was he doing selling the rest of his body?

He'd only been with Heero for twenty-four hours, and he was more confused now than when Heero had first offered him a blow job. He watched Heero's hands, hands that he'd felt on his body the night before. He was fascinated at the way Heero deftly cleaved a portion of his food in half with the chopsticks, a feat he doubted he'd be able to handle half as gracefully.

There was that word again. Graceful. He was hard pressed to fit this subdued, polite, almost painfully elegant young man, one who was almost shyly explaining harmony to Relena Peacecraft, with the one whose mouth had brought him to a mind-blowing orgasm the night before. Then he pictured the way Heero had handled Wufei's car, and had to admit that graceful was an apt description, regardless of how it was presented.

Heero tilted his head almost imperceptibly in the direction of a restaurant patron who was gesturing wildly with his chopsticks, and he shook his head and said something to Relena. She covertly glanced in the direction indicated and nodded in understanding.

Duo found himself grateful for Heero's presence. Although the restaurant was on American soil and therefore Western etiquette was acceptable, it had been a long time since he'd last had dealings with any Japanese businessmen. He'd forgotten the elaborate dance that the dining experience was, one that involved a series of steps that were repeated throughout the meal, all in a carefully choreographed manner.

He glanced at Peacecraft, and noticed that the man seemed just as at ease with the dance. Duo fought the beginnings of a frown. If he was so damned knowledgeable, why had he extended his hand to Heero in the first place? Why was he allowing Heero to take care of educating his sister on proper dining etiquette?

Enough. He wasn't here to enjoy a casual dinner with an old friend. He was there to put Peacecraft's back against the wall. The man's obvious self confidence made him itch to do it, too.

Duo took a sip of water, then held his glass aloft, letting the light reflect off the droplets of moisture that beaded along the side. "A name is an interesting thing, you understand," he began, not bothering to look at the man next to him. "A very interesting thing. Something that should be meaningless, and yet so many are judged by it. That seems rather unfair, don't you agree?" He tilted the glass, rolled it, let the water gently lap against the sides, as if it held all the answers to the universe within.

"People die to uphold it. People die to defend it. People will do so much, all for a mere word. That's either incredibly dedicated, or incredibly delusional. Peacecraft," he said, drawing out the name, hissing slightly as his tongue touched the roof of his mouth. "Peacecraft is a most interesting name. To craft peace. From what, do you suppose? You can't build something from nothing. No one can." He allowed himself a glance at Heero out of the corner of his eye. He was keeping Relena distracted. Good boy.

"Some people try to forge peace. For them, peace is escape from war, but not necessarily one that involves weapons of mass destruction. Life is war. One continuous, unending struggle. Not everyone is able to ward off the feelings of hopelessness that arise when the uphill battle becomes too much. They need assistance, reinforcements. An arsenal. Something to help them make their way through the darkness, if only for a day."

Heero's hand hesitated ever so slightly as he brought the chopsticks to his lips, but Duo's attention was focused solely on the blond to his left, even if he refused to make eye contact with the man.

Duo tired of the dance. It was time to move in for the kill.

"I'm not sure if you're aware," he continued, "but I've heard a rumor that Zodiac is currently under investigation for unscrupulous business practices involving the illegal use of prescription drugs."

"That's ridiculous," Milliardo said firmly. "They have a reputation for being in the lead for development of new drugs, and have the full backing of the FDA."

"Then I wonder who might want to tip them off to something that would launch a full scale investigation?" Checkmate. And Milliardo Fucking Peacecraft knew it, too.

"You bastard," Peacecraft hissed, his anger evident in his voice.

"Probably," Duo said in a lazy drawl that was nothing like his usual voice. "But an honest one." Heero noticed the dangerous glint that was in his eyes.

Milliardo stood up abruptly. "Relena," he said sharply. "We're leaving."

She glanced at her brother, then looked at Duo. Turning to face Heero, she gave a rueful smile. "It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Heero," she said. "Thank you for taking the time to insure that I did not make a complete fool of myself."

Heero didn't risk more than a brief nod, not with the waves of anger rolling off Duo.

The Peacecraft siblings left, the taller one striding toward the door with purpose in mind, the younger one hurrying to catch up.

Duo was still staring at his glass. One arm was draped over the edge of the table. His eyes moved from the glass to Heero.

"Who are you, Heero?"

Before Heero could reply with 'Who do you want me to be?' Duo was on his feet and throwing a handful of bills on the table.

"Screw manners," he said irritably. When Heero hesitated, he grabbed the other man's arm. Heero didn't bother to resist, not wanting to draw any more attention to them, but his body went rigid with anger of his own.

Once outside, Duo dropped his hand from Heero's arm.

"Sorry."

Heero rubbed his arm where Duo's fingers had dug into them. It didn't really hurt, but he was surprised to see the fury that had so rapidly consumed his companion. He supposed he should have expected it from someone as passionate as Duo.

Passion. He shook his head. Passion implied some sort of emotional involvement, and it seemed that Duo was fighting to keep himself distanced from everything around him, as evidenced by his chillingly calm response to Peacecraft. Duo had led the lamb to slaughter, and it had chafed Peacecraft's pride.

'Who are YOU, Duo?' he thought, his anger dissipating.

Duo handed his ticket to the parking attendant, and they waited for the rental car to be brought around.

It wasn't until they were in the car, Duo behind the wheel, Heero in the seat next to him, leaving a safe distance between them, that Duo spoke.

"Peacecraft should know by now that it's a dog eat dog world, Heero, and that unfortunately someone has to wear the milkbone underwear."

The humor was forced, and Heero said nothing, leaving both of them to their own thoughts. Duo's weak attempt at lightening the situation made the silence seem like a living thing, uncurled and slithering about their bodies.

Duo handed the keys to the valet at the hotel entrance, and then turned to Heero, a smile on his face. It wasn't an obviously forced expression, but it wasn't genuine either. Heero understood the silent message. Whatever happened in the restaurant or the car was not to be discussed, period.

They returned to the room, and Duo threw the keycard on the desk a little too forcefully. He turned to Heero and grinned a bit sheepishly.

"So, where'd ya learn all those fancy dining manners?"

Heero frowned at Duo's lapse into casual speech. It was so unlike the way he usually spoke.

"I already have this job," he replied, his own voice carrying a hint of smugness, even if it was just as forced as Duo's smile earlier. "I did not realize I needed to furnish a resume listing all of my accomplishments after the fact."

"Hmmm, a resume," Duo said, licking his lips suggestively. He gave a bark of dry laughter. "We are a lot alike, you and I."

Heero quirked an eyebrow at him.

"We both screw people for money. Of course, the people you're screwing don't complain, I'd imagine."

Heero remained silent, afraid that Duo would stop talking if he said anything.

"You don't get involved with your clients. Bad business strategy to do so. Same with me. You can't let yourself feel anything for them. Means to an end," his voice grew softer with each sentence. He turned to face Heero, cupping the other man's cheek briefly. "That's why you don't kiss on the mouth, isn't it?" He dropped his hand and turned to walk toward the balcony, standing in the doorway, his arms crossed and his head bowed.

"Duo."

Duo grunted.

Heero took a deep breath. It was a mistake, he knew that, but he couldn't stop himself.

"Why does it bother you so much to be called a bastard?" Heero had an idea, but he'd been taken by surprise so many times by Duo, he wanted to hear it from him.

To his surprise, Duo spoke. "What I said to Peacecraft." He turned and looked at Heero. He looked like he wanted to say something more, but didn't. "Don't wait up," was all he said, then he left the room.

Heero stared after him. This was the easiest job he'd ever been hired to do, since moving to California. Duo was going to just pay him to live it up in this luxury suite, unmolested?

He frowned, then turned toward the bathroom. He didn't glance once at Duo's laptop.

~~~~~~~

It was hours later and Duo had still not returned. Heero gave up trying to sleep and turned to Duo's computer.

He managed to gain access to the security cameras in the lobby and hallways, frowning at how easy it had been, and eventually he noticed an undue amount of fluttering in front of one of the rooms. People would start to head into the room, then hesitate and walk away. A few congregated there, obviously discussing something, and in a few minutes two employees seemed to have lost an argument with their peers. They headed into the room with slumped shoulders.

Heero had lost faith in his hunches long ago, but he was pretty sure he knew why they'd been reluctant to enter.

He got up and searched through the dresser drawers and the closet. He found what he was looking for and shook his head. He would never have seen himself doing this in a million years, but there was a first time for everything.

~~~~~~~

Duo's fingers were splayed across the piano keys in one of the dining rooms, faltering now and then before he gritted his teeth and started again. He hadn't really welcomed the company of the hotel employees who were stacking the chairs to make room for the cleaning crew in the morning, but in the great scheme of things, their presence was insignificant. THEY were insignificant.

He felt their sudden discomfiture before a third presence made itself known to him. He wasn't really surprised to see Heero out of the corner of his eye, but then he realized what Heero was wearing and his head snapped up.

Heero was standing there wearing nothing more than that damned black wig and Duo's dressing gown.

Duo was flabbergasted, but he did no more than quirk a grin at Heero. He would have willingly bet that there was no way that Heero would have traipsed through this hotel dressed, or not dressed, as he was. He beckoned Heero over with a tilt of his head, and, wonder of wonders, Heero complied.

Duo eyed him up and down with an exaggerated leer, then licked his lips. Heero frowned slightly, and Duo gave him a very tiny, but genuine smile.

Heero said nothing, and Duo felt as if those eyes, somewhat hidden by the shadows in the dimly lit room, were looking for some sort of answer.

"Would you gentlemen mind?" Duo said, not taking his eyes from Heero. They seemed only too glad to hasten their way out of the room, and he heard the audible click of the door as they closed it behind them. Smart boys.

"So, Heero," Duo said. "I must say you've taken me by surprise. I wouldn't think you'd want your assets on display for the entire hotel."

A minute curving of those lips, and Heero untied the robe and let it fall open, revealing Duo's workout clothes, untouched as yet on this trip as he hadn't so much as set foot in the gym. Duo had to admit, the body hugging shorts looked much better on Heero than they did on him. His eyes were transfixed to the bulge between Heero's legs, and his hand itched to reach out and stroke it.

He was brought back to awareness when Heero spoke.

"You play the piano." Not a question, a statement. No trace of surprise. Duo felt almost disappointed.

"Not really," he admitted, demonstrating by playing the only song he knew, all the way through until he reached the chorus, and then his fingers hit a discordant note. Again. "That's all I know," he added, rather unnecessarily.

Heero was standing next to the piano seat, the silk dressing gown caressing Duo's arm. He repressed a shiver and turned sideways to straddle the bench. He slid to the end of the seat, where Heero was already standing, waiting for him. His hands reached up and around Heero, running his fingers along the slick material that covered incredibly tight buttocks. It was strangely erotic, even more so than the feel of Heero's naked ass the previous night. He marveled at the firmness beneath his hands, and he couldn't help squeezing, reveling in the way it resisted the pressure of his fingers. It felt different, with his attention focused solely on that part of Heero's body. Last night he'd had Heero in his mouth while he fondled the firm muscles, but this time there were no such distractions. His fingers ghosted over the shorts, running from the small of Heero's back to the underside of that perfectly curved bottom.

His breathing quickened, and he glanced up to look at the front of Heero's, no, _his_, shorts.

And there was no change in the size or shape of that bulge.

He dropped his hands immediately, and stood up. "Follow me," he said harshly, and stalked out of the room.

Heero removed the dressing gown, balling it up in his fists for a moment, then obeyed.

tbc


	8. Domination and Surrender

The Edulcoration of Duo Maxwell - Chapter 8/?  


Edulcorate (verb)- To free from harshness (as of attitude) or to soften

* * *

**Chapter 8 - Domination and Surrender  
**  
  
Duo's anger had subsided somewhat by the time they got off the elevator, and he let Heero precede him into the room, struggling to regain a sense of calm.  
  
"You seem to be making a habit of disobeying orders, Heero," he said, but his voice had lost much of its hard edge. "A rather maverick approach, considering what you do for a living, don't you think?"  
  
Heero had dropped the now hopelessly wrinkled dressing gown onto the loveseat and was just standing there with his back turned.  
  
Duo's eyes traveled the length of Heero's body. It was obvious that Heero took very good care of it, because there wasn't a trace of excess fat on him. A few scars here and there, but it only emphasized the strength in that rigid form. Like a moth to a flame, Duo approached, reaching out to Heero's shoulder and then changing his mind before his fingers made contact.  
  
"Look at me," he commanded. Heero turned and looked straight into his eyes. It was almost unnerving, looking at someone that intently when they were the same height. He'd always had to look down at Hilde. His left hand reached up and tugged the black wig, meeting with resistance as several bobby pins, some still clipped to Heero's bangs, dangled almost comically from the hairpiece.  
  
Heero reached up and pulled the pins loose, one by one, then let them drop to the floor. The wig was thrown on the loveseat next to the robe.  
  
This time Duo reached for him with his right hand, rubbing his hand through Heero's hair, which was still lying close to his head. It was thick, but felt softer than he'd expected. He inhaled, catching a familiar scent. Heero had obviously used his conditioner.  
  
His hands ran through the hair, over and over, as if he were petting a cat. Eventually Heero's hair fluffed out, once again taking on that tousled, recently pleasured appearance Duo found so appealing.  
  
What would it be like to kiss a man? There would be no bending down to capture Heero's lips, as they were right there in front of him. When he'd first turned to face Duo, they'd been pressed together in a firm line, but during his ministrations, they'd slowly relaxed. They looked incredibly soft. Duo leaned forward, determined to know if a man's lips could possibly be as soft as a woman's.  
  
Heero turned his head away.  
  
Duo pulled his hand from Heero's hair as if he'd been burned, the anger again flaring, made worse by his giving in to the momentary weakness. _He_ was the one in control here, not Heero. _He_ called the shots. _He_ decided what they did, where they did it, and how often. Heero had agreed to be whatever it was he needed for the duration of the week, and he'd be damned if he'd let Heero forget it.  
  
"Strip." Instead of the harsh tone he'd used earlier, this one was cold, dead, emotionless.  
  
Heero reached for the hem of the tank top he'd borrowed, curling his fingers in the fabric before pulling it off and letting it fall to the ground. He peeled the shorts off, then stepped out of them. They pooled at his feet, which were encased in a pair of Duo's sneakers, also borrowed from the closet. Those were toed off, and Heero stood there barefoot and naked. Duo tamped down the slight shock that Heero had used his sneakers without putting socks on first. Compared to what they were about to do, why did that seem like such an invasion of personal space?  
  
Duo didn't know what he was doing, but he'd been in situations like this before. Not exactly like this one, but in ones where he'd had to think on his feet. Heero seemed to recognize this, but did nothing more than turn toward the bedroom. Duo followed him, discarding his own clothes, one article at a time, and dropping them on the floor as each one was removed. He refused to watch the sinuous rippling of skin over muscle as Heero moved. No distractions this time. Except for his socks, he was as naked as Heero when they arrived at the door to the bedroom.  
  
Heero reached into the nightstand and pulled out a tube of lubrication and a condom, then laid them near the end of the bed. He climbed onto the mattress, facing the headboard, then leaned forward on his elbows, waiting.  
  
Just like that.  
  
Duo stared dumbly at the items on the bed.  
  
"Prep me," came Heero's muffled voice. His face was buried in one of the pillows.  
  
"You can't tell me what to do, I'm the one paying," Duo bit out.  
  
Heero turned around then, half on his side, glaring at Duo for all he was worth over his shoulder.  
  
"You don't use lube, it won't feel as good. And maybe you get off on that, but I refuse to let you tear me. The odds of acquiring a sexually transmitted disease are greater when that happens, and you couldn't pay me enough to allow that."  
  
Then Heero turned back around and got into position again, but this time instead of his head being bowed, he stared at the headboard.

Duo picked up the condom and looked at it, then down at himself. Heero had called his bluff. The anger hadn't gone away, it had just been temporarily shielded by confusion. He touched himself and looked at Heero's inviting body.  
  
Really looked at it.  
  
Duo longed to run his hands over Heero's body. What would it be like to make love to another man? Would he like it? Would it turn him off from women, or would it just be something to add to his list of likes? If he didn't like it, what then?  
  
He tore open the condom, unrolled it, and covered himself with the clear gel Heero had provided. He climbed up the bed and, on his knees, positioned himself behind Heero.  
  
He hesitated.  
  
He stared at Heero's back, then down at his own erection, before reaching under Heero to feel his groin.  
  
Which was just as unresponsive as it had been earlier.  
  
Heero was a hooker. Heero didn't need to enjoy the act. Heero was doing this because Duo was paying him a hell of a lot of money for the privilege.  
  
He gripped Heero's hips and slammed his pelvis forward, feeling the way Heero's body had resisted slightly. It was nothing like being with a woman.

He had planned on fucking Heero the way Heero seemed to want him to. He wanted to show Heero that he had to be damn careful what he wished for. He wanted to slam into him repeatedly, hurt him, make him very, very sorry he'd underestimated Duo Maxwell.  
  
He couldn't do it.  
  
He hated Heero very much at that moment.  
  
He was still inside Heero, the only barrier between them a thin layer of latex and a generous amount of lube, but it seemed as if something delicate had shattered. Duo would swear he could hear it as he withdrew. He pulled off the condom, let it drop on the bed, and headed for the bathroom, pulling off his socks and throwing them angrily at the wall as he went.  
  
Within seconds, Heero heard the water running in the shower.  
  
What the hell?  
  
Heero remained like that, his features drawn into a puzzled frown.  
  
He'd baited Duo. He realized that now. Duo was dangerous. Far more dangerous than Heero could have imagined.  
  
Heero never really cared what his johns looked like. The uglier, the better. He almost welcomed the feel of a relentless pounding, as long as precautions were taken. He couldn't figure out why he was so careful of insuring no one ripped his insides, because that would only go further toward achieving the temporary balm the act provided his soul. The answer was that Heero simply wasn't a masochist. He didn't go out of his way to welcome pain. He didn't climax during a bout of rough sex with a client, although his body did surge to awareness at times. It couldn't help reacting to prostate stimulation, assuming any of his clients ever bothered to hit it. He preferred when they didn't.  
  
He found himself attracted to Duo. He'd found himself wanting to lean into Duo's touch earlier. He found himself wishing that he'd met Duo another time, another place, where they'd have met and socialized and maybe even been friends.  
  
He fought the wave of panic that threatened to overcome him. He had to fix this.  
  
When Duo came back to the bedroom, he paused in the doorway. Heero was sitting up in bed, the sheet carelessly draped over his body, leaving his left hip, his upper body, and part of his right leg uncovered. Duo couldn't help looking, then he raised his gaze to Heero's face. From across the room, their eyes met.  
  
They were assessing each other, measuring each other's strengths and weaknesses. Duo gave up fighting the pull he felt from Heero and walked to the bed in defeat.  
  
You win again, Heero.  
  
Heero crawled toward him as he stood at the end of the bed, the approach so perfect it was obviously an act meant to entice. He brought himself to his knees, then loosened the towel at Duo's waist, letting it drop to the floor with a heavy thud.  
  
Housekeeping was so going to love them in the morning.  
  
Duo let Heero seduce him, willingly. Let Heero fondle him, let Heero bring him back to a state of arousal, let him roll the condom on. The feel of Heero's lips was both familiar and surprising, and his body couldn't help but respond, his hips surging forward.  
  
His hands tangled in Heero's hair, doing nothing more than using Heero as his anchor, not forcing Heero's head to do anything more than it was.  
  
He came quickly, without a sound, and Heero calmly removed the condom and disposed of it in the nearby wastebasket. Duo climbed into bed, and they laid down next to each other, Heero facing one wall and Duo facing the opposite wall. Their backs were inches apart, and although the room was warm, Duo had never felt colder.  
  
tbc


	9. Ripples

****

The Edulcoration of Duo Maxwell - 9/?

~~~~~~~

Note: This fic is a response to Nova Una's challenge to write Gundam Wing/Pretty Woman fusion fic with Heero in the Julia Roberts role and Duo in the Richard Gere role.

Warnings: AU, yaoi, coarse language, violence, angst, citrusy situations, suggestive dialog, _significant_ (read that as major, MAJOR) deviation from Pretty Woman script as I see fit.

Spoilers: None for GW, oodles for Pretty Woman, to an extent.

Disclaimer: I don't really need to be Captain Obvious here, do I? No ownership, no profit, yadda yadda. Written for fun, not profit.

__

Edulcorate (verb)- To free from harshness (as of attitude); to soften

~~~~~~~

****

Chapter 9 - Ripples 

__

"Niisan," she scolded him lightly. "You worry too much. I know what I'm doing. Don't you trust me?"

"Yes," he sighed. "But I don't trust the company you keep."

"We aren't kids anymore!" she said, her tone still teasing but her eyes flashing angrily. "You can't tell me what to do!"

"I can and I will as long as you continue making choices that endanger your future!"

"Bullshit! You are supposed to be my friend! I thought you didn't buy into that whole hierarchy load of crap, but GOD! You've changed. You don't talk to me anymore, except to boss me around. Ever since you've come back, you've acted like...like you're better than me or something!"

"No..." he began, trying to find the words to say, words that would show her she was wrong, couldn't be more wrong. He was tongue-tied, unable to find a way to explain it to her that wouldn't compromise things in the bigger picture. In a way, he was doing it for her, for her and her friends. Her other friends. He couldn't tell her where he'd really been the past few years. His hesitation made her jump to all the wrong conclusions.

Her eyes filled with angry tears, and she shook her head. She was filled with the self-righteousness that only teenagers seemed to possess in buckets, and she vehemently refused to listen to reason. Because he couldn't tell her the truth, she was left to fill in the blanks. She wanted to hurt him as much as she was hurting, for what she viewed as a serious betrayal of what had been at one time a deep and abiding friendship.

He who hesitates is lost.

And it was the last time she ever called him Niisan.

~~~~~~

When Duo woke the next morning, he glanced over at Heero, who was on his stomach with his head turned away from Duo the way his whole body had been the previous night.

He'd slept with a whore. As in slept. Twice now. Duo was willing to bet his entire fortune that must defy some sort of unwritten rules that existed for hooker-client relations. 

He shook his head, and slipped out of bed, being as stealthy as he could so as not to wake Heero. He needed some time to process all that had happened. Peacecraft was not going to just lie down and let things continue in their favor. Wufei would be calling soon to find out how the evening had gone.

Flexibility was key, he decided. If you couldn't gain entrance to a fortress using a force of explosives, you had to try to sneak in without getting caught. Keeping the opposition unbalanced was always a good strategy. He made a couple of phone calls, then looked at the clock when he was done.

He had half an hour. It was good to have the kind of money that put people at one's beck and call. That left him with plenty of time to check in with Wufei. Might as well get it over with.

~~~~~~

Meiran Long looked at the ringing cell phone and then at the bathroom door, where she expected her husband to come running out to answer the phone as if it were the only life line available to keep him from drowning.

She knew who it was. 

As much as she liked Duo Maxwell, there were times when she wanted to wring his neck. She didn't blame Duo for Wufei's ruthless business sense, not by a long shot. Wufei was not one to be caught up in the tides of anyone else's personality, not even one as forceful as Duo's. It also meant her husband was extremely hardheaded, but she'd learned to accept him for it long ago, long before he'd first kissed her in her backyard, surprising them both.

They'd been so young then, barely fourteen and just starting high school, and so very full of youthful bravado. The act, a simple pressing of his lips against hers, had left her feeling unbalanced for the first time in her life.

She'd fallen in love with Wufei before she even knew what love was, and hadn't recognized it as such until much later. Ever since the two of them could walk, they'd been in competition with each other. Who stopped wetting the bed first. Who could get the swing to go higher. Who could go longer watching a scary movie without hiding their eyes. Who could knock down more stacked cans with a tennis ball. Who got the highest score on their history test. 

He constantly made her strive harder, as much as she hated to admit it. She did it for herself first and foremost, but she couldn't remember a time when it wasn't in the back of her head - the triumphant look she could give Wufei Chang when she was victorious. That applied to all aspects of her life, not just those in which she competed directly with him.

It never occurred to her that he might feel the same way, and she'd just stood there, at the back of her house, long after he'd removed his lips from hers, blushed slightly, and gone home without so much as a backward glance. The memory was fuzzy with the passage of time, but she was willing to bet she'd still had her fingers pressed to her lips when her mother called her in for supper that night.

If there was one thing she'd always admired about Wufei, it was his refusal to back down from a fight, no matter how unpopular his opinion was. There were precious few people who stood up for what was right, especially when what was right wasn't always well received.

Then he'd decided to abandon his emerging career as a defense attorney after losing his first high profile case. And had practically gone into seclusion, which had in turn worried her endlessly. Wufei felt he'd failed, and failed in ways that she couldn't imagine. That had hurt her more than anything, that for the first time since they'd known each other, this was something she couldn't understand.

They'd met Duo at one of the fundraisers she'd helped organize. She'd actually approached him, recognizing him as someone with the determination to make things happen, no matter what. Wufei had joined them shortly afterwards.

She smiled at the memory, but it was gone as soon as her husband hung up the phone and grinned at her.

Wufei did not grin. That look meant something happened that he was immensely pleased with, but it was something she was not going to like.

"Duo got under his skin," he said. "Peacecraft was so angry, he stormed out of the restaurant, with his sister in tow."

Meiran frowned as Wufei almost gleefully told her how Duo had implied that the FDA was conducting an investigation of the Zodiac Conglomerate. He noticed the stiffening of her shoulders and crossed his arms, scowling at her.

"Don't look at me like that," he growled. "Peacecraft knows what he's getting into. It's a cutthroat world, and if you aren't prepared to do battle, if you haven't come up with a sound business strategy for your firm, then you have no one else to blame. No one forced him to take over his father's company."

"You know everything, don't you, Chang?" she asked. Wufei recognized the subtle warning. She only called him Chang when she was downright seething. "What about getting to know your enemies, recognizing where their motivations lie, assessing their weaknesses? Exploiting that knowledge in a fencing match is one thing, but to take advantage of it for personal gain is just inhumane."

She stormed into the living room of the sublet apartment they'd rented for the week and picked up a magazine that was laying on the coffee table. When he followed her into the room, she threw it at him, striking him in the chest. He caught it before it fell to the ground, and stared at her like she was crazy. It was a look that she'd often found anywhere from cute to aggravating, but it had never made her feel as enraged as she was right now.

"What's the matter, Chang?" she sneered. "Can't bother to read the entire thing front to back? Try the little business notes section. Remember those? You used to find them interesting, before you prostituted all you believed in to the lure of the business world. Where we come from, that makes you nothing more than a whore."

He was shocked speechless, giving her ample time to shove her feet into a pair of sneakers near the door without untying them first. She put her hand on the doorknob, then turned to glare at him one last time.

"I'm going out for a run. You'll probably be gone by the time I get back. Have a great day playing God with people's lives. Maybe you can start a war in a third world country while you're at it, and still be home in time for supper."

Wufei watched the door slam behind her, and then glanced down at the periodical in his hand. He wasn't really looking at it, or the picture of the impeccably dressed man gracing its cover.

~~~~~~

"I'd appreciate not finding out from a third party that you've been assessing my company behind my back. I expect that from a complete stranger, but not from someone I considered a friend."

"As much as it pains me to remind you, Milliardo, you must realize that there are no friends in the business world. You of all people should know that. Everything in life can be reduced to a tactical standoff. Corporate monopolies, military combat, buying goods at a market, disagreements between friends. It's a matter of getting to know the players before making your move," the cultured voice sounded over the speakerphone.

Milliardo Peacecraft got up and walked away from the desk before he gave into the temptation to throw the phone across the room.

"I need to come up with a plan!" he raged. "If you're not going to do anything to help, I need to accept whatever Maxwell-Chang is offering. This is Relena's future we're talking about, and I won't stand by and let it be stolen out from under her!"

Relena halted outside her brother's study, not meaning to eavesdrop but unable to get her feet to carry her past the door that was slightly ajar.

She lost the thread of the conversation as her brother's voice grew low and dangerous. She shivered. He had been ill tempered since last night, sullen and moody in a way he hadn't been in a long time. She could remember the very day his personality had first undergone that shift, and knew what was coming as soon as he terminated the call, picking up the receiver and slamming it down for good measure.

She didn't need to peek in the room to see it, but she did anyway.

"...the ailing Peacecraft has called upon the assistance of his children, Milliardo, 22, and Relena, 15, as the company continues to explore new direction. The younger Peacecraft, who willingly gave up a military career to pursue his father's dream, has been placed in charge of ruining the company's diversification..."

Relena watched her brother stare at that accursed scrap of paper. It had been three years now, but she still knew what it said by heart. It had been a simple typo, she'd explained even back then, and one that had a correction posted in the very next issue, but he had taken it personally, and pointed out that not everyone bothered to read the corrections for past issues. She hadn't expected to him to take it in good humor, and she had expected him to prove them wrong. Except she hadn't realized how very zealous he'd become. It was like he'd become an entirely different person overnight.

His desire to continue on to special operations in the army had been effectively put on hold indefinitely, and he'd adamantly refused to cut his hair ever since. He claimed the next time it was cut, he'd be in uniform again, or it wouldn't be cut at all. He'd only relented to trim his bangs occasionally, and sometimes Relena thought perhaps he did it to have something in common with her, something small and insignificant but personal all the same.

It might get worse when he read that little blurb that echoed the disembodied voice's comments. She made her way to the kitchen and hoped she was able to look as ill informed about everything as her brother seemed determined to keep her.

He joined her in the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee. He looked just as dark and brooding as he had since that disastrous dinner. Until that phone call this morning, she'd hoped a good night's sleep would have helped things look a little brighter. Sometimes that was all she needed, when things looked their darkest. She'd found it was easier to deal with obstacles when she was well rested, and things always seemed so much brighter in the daylight hours. Problems weren't quite so oppressive.

She supposed that might change this fall. She was graduating at the end of the academic year, and would be expected to pick up some of the slack she'd been given while attending school full time and interning at the office part time. Would she become like Milliardo, bitter and bearing a massive chip on her shoulder?

No, she decided. She would not.

He was still standing at the coffeepot, but finally turned to face her. He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it and sat down at the adjacent side of the table.

"Relena," he began, "I apologize for my being short with you yesterday evening. You handled yourself with the utmost comportment, and I appreciate your assistance. I always have," he added, his ice blue eyes darkening. Relena's heart caught in her throat at the rare show of real affection from her brother.

She couldn't voice a response, but he wasn't waiting for one. He seemed to be making a decision.

"I would like you to accompany me tomorrow. There will be an outdoor festival of sorts. Invitations are usually only extended to Fortune 500 companies, but they are opening it up this year to local businesses in the region as well. It will be a chance for us to mingle with the big guns, to network with the people who count, and there are enough outdoor activities to keep you entertained as well. I think it will be a good chance to combine business with pleasure." He smiled at her then. A small, sorry excuse for a smile, to be sure, but a smile nonetheless.

How could she say no to that?

~~~~~~

Quatre sat at the bar, his arms stretched over the expanse of wood and his fingers dangling over the other side.

"Iria's been calling again," he said conversationally.

Trowa counted out the money he'd need for the register that morning. Usually a small crowd would come in for the light breakfast the pub offered on Tuesdays. Nothing much, just a few regulars and the occasional businessman looking for a place with no crowds, away from the hustle and bustle that was the rest of Los Angeles, but enough to turn a profit.

Trowa knew Iria had been calling with increasing frequency. The only number Quatre had given her was the one to the phone at the bar, so all her calls were received here. Sometimes Trowa thought perhaps his friend was afraid to talk to his sister when he was alone.

"What did she want this time?" he asked, glancing up at Quatre briefly before whacking the antique register on its side with an open palm.

"Why don't you fix that thing?" Quatre said, pulling his body forward by his fingertips and resting his stomach on the polished surface of the bar. He held his upper body aloft to watch Trowa perform a series of light punches and thwaps to get the drawer to slide open

"It's a built-in anti-theft device," Trowa said reasonably.

"I can get it to open," Quatre bragged.

"Yes," Trowa agreed. "You have a magic touch." The blond grinned at him, then frowned as Trowa prodded gently. "Quatre?"

He retreated from his position on the bar until his entire weight was supported by the stool, then leaned back as much as was safe and laced his fingers together behind his head, stretching them toward the ceiling. His shirt rode up slightly, exposing a small strip of skin between the hem of his shirt and the top of the low-rise jeans he was wearing. Trowa watched him and waited.

He sat forward again, his elbows slamming into the bar. He winced slightly as they made contact. "Ow," he said, then sighed. "You know what she wants. She wants me to go home."

Trowa considered Quatre's choice of words. "Go home," he said softly.

"What? Trowa, are you trying to get rid of me?"

"No," the brunette shook his head. "You said 'she wants me to _go_ home,' not 'she wants me to _come_ home.'"

"So?"

Trowa shrugged. "Nothing, I guess."

He walked to the door and unlocked it, then flipped the sign from CLOSED to OPEN.

Quatre looked like he was ready to say something, but the door opened up and a couple of men who looked like they'd been out all night partying staggered in, each supporting the other's weight.

Just another day in Hollywood.

~~~~~~

__

"What happened?"

"Damnedest thing, ya know? She was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. These kids, though, I'm tellin' ya. They get into that hard stuff and look where they end up."

He wanted to kill the man with his bare hands. Saw his hands reach out, in his mind's eye, and choke the presumptive bastard until his tongue turned black.

No. She hadn't, he wanted to rail at the man. No matter how very easy it would have been for her to do so.

No.

He wanted to howl. Wanted to turn back the hands of time. Wanted there to be something he could have done, anything.

No...

Heero was lying on his stomach, and his hand reached out in a blind panic, groping the sheets searching for something, then realizing that he was in bed, and remembering everything that had happened to bring him here.

Everything.

He sat up and threw his legs over the side of the bed, leaning forward with his hands on his knees, taking deep gasping breaths.

God, it still hurt.

And now he had to go out there and face yet another in a long string of mistakes he'd made in his lifetime.

He heard voices, one of them Duo's, another sounding slightly out of breath. A door closed, and Heero felt a sudden insane urge to just burrow under the covers and not come out. He snorted lightly. He was a grown man, not a child. What was the worst that could happen?

It didn't help that he thought perhaps the worst was already happening.

He stood up. Delays never made facing the music any easier.

When he walked out to the sitting room, Duo was at the computer, his brow wrinkled slightly. He smiled at Heero and inclined his head toward the table, where several covered dishes were.

Heero slowly made his way to the table, his eyes flicking back towards Duo, whose attention was back on whatever he was reading on the monitor. His hands tightened the loose knot in the terrycloth belt at his waist.

He'd felt a sense of relief wash over him when he'd found one of the luxury robes provided by the hotel hanging behind the bathroom door. He dropped his hands from the belt. Quatre would call him on that, saying Heero had a few tells of his own, given the right set of circumstances.

Quatre was a hell of a poker player. He didn't have what would be considered a poker face; his was far too expressive, but he was misleading as hell. He would look equally pissed with a royal flush as with 'jack squat,' as Trowa so elegantly put it. His eyes would gleam with unrepressed triumph at other times, regardless if he held a pair of deuces or four of a kind. You could never tell when Quatre was bluffing and when his true emotions were showing. He also had an uncanny knack for knowing when others were, and it was more than just watching for the 'tells' he was so fond of talking about.

Heero sat down and lifted the cover of one of the dishes, revealing a small bowl underneath. Another bowl resided under the second cover, and was that what he thought it was?

Miso soup, rice, and dried seaweed.

But only enough for one person.

He glanced again at Duo, who seemed not to have forgotten Heero was in the room. He broke apart the chopsticks and turned his attention to the food before him.

Duo had known Heero was awake as soon as he heard the bed creak, his ears having been attuned to it. He hadn't been surprised to see Heero covering himself this time, in sharp contrast to the blatant nudity of the previous morning.

He forced himself not to watch Heero as the man ate, forced himself not to remember the incredibly elegant way Heero had approached the meal the night before. He gave Heero enough time to finish breakfast, then swore softly as soon as the chopsticks were laid on the table. He allowed himself a tiny glance out of the corner of his eye. As he'd expected, Heero had looked up at the noise.

"Damn useless spam filter," he muttered, repeating the mantra he'd used throughout the day for the last two weeks. "Generic Valium. Refinancing my home. Reduce monthly mortgage payments. Viagra. Enlarge your penis..." this time he turned and looked right at Heero. "Do you think my penis needs to be enlarged, Heero?"

Heero mumbled something under his breath, and Duo struggled against the grin that was threatening to emerge. "What was that?"

"No," came the soft reply. Heero's head was bowed, but after that single word, he looked right at Duo, not a single expression on his face.

"Come here, please," Duo said, beckoning him further with a tilt of his head.

Heero was still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that he'd just expressed the opinion that Duo's penis was damn near perfect, in just those terms. Thankfully Duo hadn't heard him. He was halfway to Duo before he'd realized his feet were miles ahead of his brain. He slowed as he got within a yard of his 'employer,' and Duo motioned with his hand for Heero to stand behind him.

"You said you dabbled," Duo said. "Will a little dabble do me if I let you have at this spam problem?"

Heero almost missed what Duo was asking as he closed his eyes and inhaled the scent of the man in front of him.

"Yes," Heero replied firmly. Duo stood up and moved around Heero, and they changed places.

Heero's fingers flew over the keyboard, occasionally pausing whenever he needed to use the touchpad.

He said nothing, nor did Duo, but he was intensely aware of the heat radiating from the body that was now standing just inches behind him. Duo's hands came to rest on the back of the chair and his knuckles grazed Heero's back. Occasionally one hand would come up and point to something on the monitor as Duo asked a question.

He managed to reinstall the entire program, this time correctly configuring it, following Duo's instructions for filter settings, and applied it to the entire network. It never ceased to give Heero a sense of power, to be able to manipulate so much from a single remote location. Even with the distraction of Duo's breath near his ear when he turned his head a little too much during one of Duo's questions, he couldn't ignore that little thrill. One that had nothing to do with the fact that he'd swear he heard Duo's breath hitch when Heero's elbow grazed the inside of Duo's arm.

It seemed as though several lifetimes passed, and yet paradoxically it was over all too soon. Heero removed his hands from the keyboard and risked looking up at Duo, who was no longer leaning over him. "The only real test now is time."

"Hmm. And you call that dabbling," Duo mused. "I'd hate to see something you're really good at-" he bit off the words.

"Heero," he began, both of them ignoring any unintentional implications in Duo's words. "You've agreed to be whatever I need this week, within reason, right?"

Heero nodded. "Within reason," he repeated.

"I need you to help me with something."

tbc

~~~~~~~

Before anyone has any of the issues I've seen in response to other fics, I am going to explain about the names I've used in this chapter. I am trying to remain consistent throughout the story with the American custom of Christian or given name followed by family or surname, hence "Wufei Chang" instead of "Chang Wufei." I did wonder if Meiran might refer to him as Chang Wufei, but I just gave up the ghost on that internal debate, because it is one of those details that wasn't worth obsessing over. They grew up in the U.S., in this particular AU.

And yes, I did intend to keep Meiran's family name. It's not as common now as it was twenty or thirty years ago, but women have been known to keep their "maiden name" after getting married.


	10. Strategy

The Edulcoration of Duo Maxwell - 10/?

Warnings: See Chapter 1. Minor lime this chapter.

Spoilers: None for GW, oodles for Pretty Woman, to an extent.

Disclaimer: I don't really need to be Captain Obvious here, do I? No ownership, no profit, yadda yadda. Written for fun, not profit. Don't own IBM.

Edulcorate (verb) - To free from harshness (as of attitude); to soften

Chapter 10 - Strategy

Heero blinked when Duo told him what he wanted, but nodded and turned to the bedroom, with its adjoining bath, to shower and get dressed.

Duo watched him go, then released the breath he hadn't known he'd been holding.

That had been harder than he'd thought it would be. God, had it been harder.

He'd thought he was immune to Heero after last night, but when Heero had turned slightly to ask him a question, his lips RIGHT THERE, Duo had nearly forgotten what he'd wanted to say.

He felt like some shy youth building up the courage to ask a girl to the prom.

Duo Maxwell did not do 'shy.'

This was not a date. This was merely using one of Heero's dubious skills to his advantage. Tomorrow would be the closest that he could even remotely consider a 'date' - not that he was thinking of it in those terms. He hadn't lied to Heero. He wanted someone with him when he went to yet another business networking event. This time it was that ridiculous festival with all the necessary hobnobbery and suck-up-ishness that such events entailed. If he hadn't 'hired' Heero, he might have teased Wufei about hiring Meiran instead, then winced slightly and rubbed his jaw.

Even in the ranks of the wealthy, there was a definite hierarchy to be observed, and Duo and Wufei were automatically near the top, based on the value of their accumulated assets.

Wufei. His partner had been, Duo couldn't say 'giddy,' but a damn sight more than excited, that Peacecraft had so easily been forced against the ropes. Duo found himself wondering at Wufei's background. For all his intelligence, sometimes Wufei seemed to forget that a cornered animal would bite. Maybe it was the supreme confidence he had that things would turn out in his favor in the end.

He'd known Wufei for a relatively short time, really, and had been almost immediately impressed with the man's ability to keep a rein on his obviously short fuse. Except where Meiran was concerned. That had been an interesting first meeting.

After that rocky excuse for an introduction, they'd found that they were of a similar mind in many things, and their particular areas of expertise complemented each other.

Wufei acted as if it had been a foregone conclusion in the end, but he knew that they were both just as surprised when that first highly risky business venture paid off. In spades. The adage it takes money to make money was entirely true, and once they had it, they just kept making it.

Duo lived for the thrill of the hunt, the satisfaction he got when he took a company, effectively disassembled it, sold the smaller subsidiaries, and turned an obscene amount of profit. It wasn't the money, really, although he wasn't about to complain that he had it.

Hilde and he had gotten into a major argument one day, not long before she'd sprung the long distance breakup call on him. She'd argued that money didn't buy happiness, and he'd told her then she'd obviously never not had any. It was the closest he'd ever come to telling her about his past, and she'd been taken aback by the statement. Duo thought he'd blown it, had given too much of himself away, then she'd come back with "and it can't buy love" either. That was the beginning of the end, he thought, any issues with his sexual preferences aside.

What was taking Heero so long?

Duo found him in the bedroom, his leather pants in one hand and the pair from Prada in the other, assessing them both.

It looked as though a slight alteration to the day's itinerary was going to be necessary.

* * *

It hadn't taken all that long, really, but the look on Heero's face while his measurements were being taken was almost comical, because the tailor's attention was nowhere near Heero's glare of doom. It was when Duo looked at the furrowed brows that he realized Heero had darkened them to match his hair.

Heero had insisted he knew all his measurements, and there was no need to be drag out the tape measure.

Duo felt a twinge of embarrassment on Heero's behalf when the tailor became indignant, launching into a lecture about not taking ANYONE'S word on their own measurements, and if Heero had a hangup about having another man's hands on him, he'd only have to deal with it for a short while.

At one point he'd accidentally jabbed Heero with the pin, and before Heero could react, the tailor told him "Don't be a big baby, I'm sure you can handle a little prick."  
  
Duo had to turn his head away and stifle the laugh that was brewing at that comment.

Fortunately men's clothes, for the most part, were far less elaborate than women's. Hilde had never been much for shopping either, but she'd had so many damn layers to try on.

Once Heero's measurements were written down, it was a simple matter to flip through pages of the catalog in front and arrange for which pieces should be sent to the hotel later. The tailor was about to protest, insisting he needed to do a proper final fitting, but Heero's glare finally seemed to make him reconsider his words, and seeing as he'd taken the measurements himself, grudgingly accepted that was how it was going to be.

Heero waited near the entrance as Duo reviewed the order and added one item to it. The glossy black hair on Heero's wig reflected the sunlight from outside, making his hair look almost blue. He'd really wanted to forbid Heero from wearing it, but had let it go. It was a shame to stuff those damned touchable locks of hair under what looked like a skullcap in comparison.

Duo had really liked the way his conditioner smelled in Heero's hair. Every time he'd leaned over Heero, he'd been hard pressed not to bury his nose in it.

Cornered animals bit at times, but sometimes they tried to bolt.

He slipped the tailor a twenty before joining Heero at the doors to the shop, and they walked outside together.

Duo was inserting the key in the car door when Heero spoke.

"This car isn't yours."

"No," Duo agreed, opening the door for Heero and then walking around to the driver's side.

"You have enough money to keep a car of your own in Los Angeles."

Duo had already realized that Heero didn't ask many questions. He made statements, observations, and expected the missing information to be filled in. Duo thought that he'd seen that tactic used before somewhere.

"Just because I have it doesn't mean I want to waste it. A rental car is given periodic maintenance and its own storage facility. I own property here, too, but I use it to generate income. Staying in a hotel means someone else cleans up after you, and when I'm tied up with meetings, I don't want to worry about menial chores building up."

Heero thought about what Duo said. He noticed that Duo hadn't said he didn't want to be bothered with hiring a maid service. He acted like having someone clean up after him was a treat instead of something to be expected in daily life.

His inquisitive mind was going to be the death of him, but he couldn't help feel the draw of this particular mystery. A mystery that went by the name of Duo Maxwell.

They rode in silence for a few minutes.

"You were bluffing last night."

Duo looked at Heero with a slightly shocked, slightly amused expression, before returning his eyes to the road.

"I was."

"Why?"

Duo felt a tiny bit of triumph. Ah, an interrogative statement from Heero this time.

"How did you know?" he countered.

Heero opened his mouth and snapped it shut, Duo noticed out of the corner of his eye. He seemed to struggle with something. All this in the span of mere seconds.

"The Food and Drug Administration is governed by the Department of Health and Human Services, not the Department of Justice."

Duo shrugged. "Doesn't matter. He's shaken now, that's all that counts."

"Is it true? The rumor?"

"What is this, Heero, twenty fucking questions? What do you care?" he snapped, then calmed himself. He'd been doing so well, but he hated his business practices being called into question.

Of course Heero said nothing more the rest of the way to their next destination.

* * *

By the time Duo parked and they got out of the car, he had managed to paste his cheerful, everything-is-fine-with-the-world smile on his face.

Heero looked at the sign over the shop and then back at Duo questioningly.

"What?" Duo said, no anger in his voice this time.

Heero shook his head. It wasn't that he was surprised. Duo had been perfectly clear that he'd wanted Heero's help in designing a brand new computer, from scratch. He supposed he hadn't really wanted to believe it, because it was so not what he expected.

He just couldn't grasp the why.

He really should have feigned ignorance of any sort of computer knowledge, but it had been something that he'd been interested in since high school, and when it came time to decide on a career choice, he'd taken that into consideration.

It was getting harder and harder to block out all the reminders. Duo was dangerous, he reminded himself. In more ways than one.

But for some reason he was reluctant to end their twisted little business arrangement.

After they entered, Duo didn't make a single move toward any of the items on display, and when a ridiculously young looking sales technician attempted to approach, he halted the man's progress by simply lifting his index finger and refusing to make eye contact.

He looked at Heero, who was feeling a little bit lost, despite the comforting reassurance of a familiar environment.

"My specifications are simple," Duo said. "Build your dream computer."

"Excuse me?" the words slipped out from Heero unbidden.

"Build your dream computer. If you could design a laptop to your exact specifications, what would it be? That's what I want."

Heero frowned. That didn't make any sense. What he would use it for and what Duo would weren't necessarily the same things. Would Duo want a computer that could handle high graphics images? One that had sound and picture quality for teleconferencing? Obviously a decent ethernet card...

"It's simple, Heero, whatever it is that you would want. No trick. I don't want you to ask me anything. Just build what you'd want for yourself." He emphasized the last word.

"I'll be back in half an hour," he said, then walked out.

The technician looked at Heero, who sent one last glance at Duo's retreating back. Heero then turned to face the young man, the tiniest gleam of excitement in his eyes.

"I want to see your selection of central processing units," he began.

* * *

Duo returned half an hour later, as promised, but Heero was involved in a debate over the use of a touch pad versus IBM's Thinkpad technology. Personally, he wasn't too crazy about anything other than a plain old mouse, but he'd learned to sacrifice for the convenience of a portable computer. He refused to cart the optional mouse with him. All in one piece, slim, compact.

Heero noticed Duo's arrival right away, and his mind automatically replied the responses to the young salesman's protests.

It hadn't taken him long to realize that this was Duo's way of learning more about him, although why Duo was even interested was beyond him. Knowing if he had any diseases was understandable, but then Heero's insistence on condoms may have made been sufficient reassurance. This went beyond knowing things about Heero that could potentially hurt Duo. This was a very personal question; to Heero it was as valid a window to his mind as any form of projective analysis, such as a Rorschach test. More so, even.

But he'd done it anyway. The very idea of having carte blanche to design a laptop, to do so without restrictions or paradigms, was a lure he hadn't been able to resist. He had only turned to seek out Duo a couple of times, only to be reminded that Duo wasn't there. Finally he gave in and did exactly what Duo had requested. Built his, Heero's, idea of the perfect laptop.

It wouldn't be ready for two days, and he wondered what Duo would think of it when he was done, but that would be closer to the end of this insane 'contract' they'd initiated two days earlier, and Duo's opinions were less likely to matter then. Even if they did, he had already collected far more for the week than he'd expected, having demanded half of the money up front.

While Duo watched the light in Heero's eyes die a little bit, his cell phone rang. He answered it with a sigh.

"Yes, Wufei," he answered, not bothering to check the number displayed on the tiny screen. Who else had such impeccable timing?

"Peacecraft seems to have some sort of Plan C," Wufei's voice was both irate and concerned.

"You don't say."

"Apparently there is some up and coming business interested in some sort of merger with Peacecraft. They're currently a small family owned business out of Nevada..."

Duo had rather expected the unexpected, and, although surprised at the direction that Milliardo's mental wheels were spinning, he had to say he was impressed. Either fate was smiling on the Peacecrafts, or the man hadn't laid all his cards on the table when he'd folded that night at the Samurai.

"You're going to leave Meiran a widow at the rate you're going," he said into the phone. "How soon do you need me there?"

"Five minutes ago."

"Of course." He clicked off the phone. It was understood that he would be there as fast as humanly possible.

"Heero."

His escort turned without another word to the technician he'd been arguing with. Duo jerked his head toward the door, and the two of them left.

* * *

"So what kind of 'family' did you show Peacecraft anyway, last night?"

"What do you mean?" Duo was deliberately being vague, and Wufei wanted to throttle him.

"You brought a date last night, didn't you? Not that it much matters what Peacecraft thought of you after your yanking his chain the way you did."

Even though Wufei was ready to burst a vein at the latest bit of news on the Peacecraft acquisition front, he found himself curious as to what his partner had meant the other day. Duo was obviously hiding something, and seemed very pleased with himself about it, too. Pleased, but at the same time, guilty.

"Your car drives like a wet dream," Duo said suddenly, and although Wufei recognized it for the distraction it was, he couldn't resist letting loose with the stream of colorful language and creative curses that he'd uttered the night Duo had stolen his car.

And of course, puff up with pride at Duo's compliment. He'd felt the same way, although he wouldn't have put it in quite those terms.

* * *

They worked until late that night, digging through records of assets they had, scanning for names in the computer's Rolodex, trying to determine if the Nevada company had enough assets to keep Peacecraft afloat.

The phone rang, and Duo glanced at the number displayed.

"It's your little woman," he said, then leaned back to stretch.

Wufei gave a sound a little like a snort. "Better not let her hear you call her that," he said, then answered the phone.

Meiran was the one who'd actually arranged for the fruit and champagne that first night. She somehow felt that a luxury hotel was a lonely place to be, and even though she and Wufei were no more permanent residents than Duo was, she had wanted to do something to make Duo feel welcome, away from home as he was. Home. What was a home, really, other than a residence listed for tax purposes? Duo felt an odd little twinge as Wufei told Meiran that they were just about done for the night, then pausing while she said something in response.

He sat there thoughtfully until Wufei hung up the phone.

"You didn't tell her you love her," he teased.

Wufei looked at him like he'd grown an extra head, and a very, very faint blush graced the top of his cheekbones.

"Meiran does not need such reassurances," he said. "She knows I love her. I married her, didn't I?"

Duo chuckled. "So I'll see you tomorrow?" he asked.

Wufei rolled his eyes. "Yes. I know it's important, but these events are a long, painful means of torture."

"Just remember that we are there to gather information and design a new battle plan at the drop of a hat," Duo said, shutting down his computer. "The thrill of the hunt will have to be enough."

"I don't understand why they insist on setting it up like some sort of outdoor carnival," Wufei complained, grabbing his jacket.

Duo just shrugged. "Better get home, Wufei. I assume you don't need me to walk you to your car?"

With a laugh, he left the office, hearing Wufei swear at him anew.

Now that that was out of the way, it was time for Phase Two.

* * *

The packages had obviously been delivered, Duo noted, as they were still sitting untouched, some of the clothes draped over the back of the chair, a couple of midsize boxes on the floor under a small table that was more decorative than functional.

He was sitting on the floor in front of the loveseat, staring at the TV. Which, Duo noted, wasn't turned on. The wig was gone, current location unknown.

Heero saw Duo's reflection as the longhaired man approached him.

"Gets kind of loud in here when you do nothing more than listen to your own thoughts."

He turned around, and saw Duo smiling at him, but the cheerful, smirking countenance was at odds with the slightly melancholy voice he'd heard. Had Duo said that, or were the words only in his mind?

And since when did his mind's voice start to sound like Duo?

"Anyone ever tell you 'you can't con a con,' Heero?"

"I've heard the expression."

"Good." Duo sat down on the nearby armchair. "Let me get a few things straight between us, no pun intended," he winked. "You mentioned that it would be five hundred dollars to change my mind about being gay, but you also said that the thousand for that first night would cover just about anything except bondage. This is true, correct?"

Heero nodded.

"Furthermore, you also added that prostate stimulation was extra." Heero nodded again. "What I need to know before I go any further is whether or not the eight thousand for the week will cover both those things. It seems you keep adding codicils to our agreement while I'm distracted."

"No," Heero shook his head.

"No, what? No, they're not extra, or no, they're not included?" Duo reached into his pocket and pulled out a money clip. Half of Franklin's face was visible behind the monogrammed initial.

"You know it doesn't really matter to me, Heero, I have the money. So am I going to need to pay more, or not?"

"No. No, you don't need to pay me more for those things." Heero could have kicked himself. The guy was practically waving the money in front of him. Money that he could have used to maybe...do what with? Give it to Quatre so he could go out and blow it on more poker games? Why was he so pissed at his roommate all of a sudden?

"Good," Duo was saying. "I'm glad we cleared that up." The money was put away, and Duo stood up.

"I haven't been on many dates," he said. "Not the kind that require me to go through the elaborate dance of seduction that seems to be required for most people. With a snap of my fingers," he illustrated the gesture, "I don't have to do much at all to get them to flock to me. But I think I'd like to see what I can accomplish, if I have my mind on a different outcome."

Heero didn't like the way this conversation was going, but he'd already told Duo that almost anything was included. A small part of him was curious as well.

"If I am going to 'be gay,' as it were," Duo continued. "I should familiarize myself with various aspects of 'gayness,' I think. Maybe I will have to sniff out a future bedmate at a bar that caters to that sort of thing, or will need to determine a man's orientation based on his reactions to me. Do you have an accurate 'gaydar,' Heero?"

"It hasn't been a requirement of my job," he said dryly.

Duo smiled a bit. "I don't suppose it is. Tell me this, Heero, before you...changed careers, did you date? When did you realize you were gay?"

"Sexual orientation has nothing to do with my job, either," Heero snapped, and then realized what he'd done and bit his lip. Duo's eyebrows went up, more at Heero's reaction than the actual words.

"Hmm. Interesting. Food for thought. Fair enough, Heero, our earlier discussion didn't specifically address my desire to hear actual answers from you. Perhaps another time."

He knelt on the floor in front of Heero.

"If I later decide that I'm going to pursue a sexual relationship with a man, I need to be familiar with his body. I know my own. I know what feels good for me. I need to see how it feels for someone else. You're my guinea pig."

His hand was on Heero's thigh, and it was all he could do not to flinch from Duo's touch.

"You don't have to say anything," Duo said. "But I will be cataloging your responses to make informed decisions later on, so please, be honest." His hand ran up and down the thigh as he spoke, his thumb occasionally brushing tantalizingly close to Heero's groin.

He stood up. "Take off your clothes, please."

Heero stood up as well, and started to unbutton the shirt he'd borrowed from Duo earlier that day.

The pants were next. They were a bit too loose in the waist and cuffed at the bottom, as Duo had longer legs, so they slipped off easily once he unfastened the button and lowered the zipper.

"Mmm," Duo murmured appreciatively. "It's interesting, seeing a man who has hairless legs." He reached out a hand and brushed the back against Heero's shin. "You must get waxed religiously, because there's no trace of stubble, even after two days. Hilde gave it up after the first time. Said it hurt like hell, and she just ended up needing to shave the next day anyway.

"Have a seat, Heero. Let me look at you."

Heero felt like things had spun out of his control from the moment Duo said 'please,' but he did as he was asked. Told, he corrected himself. Did as he was told.

Duo leaned up over him and ran a hand up Heero's stomach, feeling the muscles contract under his palm, spreading out his fingers until he reached Heero's nipples, then lifting his hand and trailing the tips of his fingernails in a straight line down Heero's chest. He continued to caress Heero's upper body with one hand, marveling at the differences between Heero's flat, hard chest, and Hilde's soft womanly curves.

Heero had an extremely trim build, and Duo would not be surprised if he had been occasionally mistaken for a girl in his youth. His body had a subtle strength about it, nothing overtly muscular, but well defined all the same.

He felt a slight tremor under his hand at one point, and felt his own breathing stutter in response. He moved between Heero's legs and ran both hands up and down the sides of that long torso.

He could see Heero struggling with his body's desires. Felt the answering pulse beneath his hands as they would make an unexpected detour to graze Heero's belly or hip. The next time his hands slid up to Heero's armpits, he slipped them behind Heero's back and ghosted his fingers over Heero's spine on the return trip to his lower back.

The only sound was Heero's raspy breathing, and Duo felt himself harden in response. He forced himself to keep his libido in check, waiting.

His hands touched all the places he could reach except one, and he continued the light massaging touches until Heero's breathing had become jagged. He finally moved his hand to the one area he'd been avoiding and felt a sense of triumph as Heero suddenly became erect.

He stood up.

"Thank you, Heero. Turn off the lights before you come to bed, would you?"

How does it feel, Heero?

He couldn't help smiling as he headed for the bedroom, leaving a perplexed and frustrated Heero sitting open mouthed on the loveseat.

tbc


	11. Appearances

****

The Edulcoration of Duo Maxwell - 11/?

~~~~~~~

Note: This fic is a response to Nova Una's challenge to write Gundam Wing/Pretty Woman fusion fic with Heero in the Julia Roberts role and Duo in the Richard Gere role.

Warnings: AU, yaoi, coarse language, violence, angst, citrusy situations, suggestive dialog, _significant_ (read that as major, MAJOR) deviation from Pretty Woman script as I see fit.

Spoilers: None for GW, oodles for Pretty Woman, to an extent.

Disclaimer: I don't really need to be Captain Obvious here, do I? No ownership, no profit, yadda yadda. Written for fun, not profit. Don't own IBM.

__

Edulcorate (verb) - To free from harshness (as of attitude); to soften

~~~~~~~

****

Chapter 11 - Appearances

Heero's eyes followed Duo all the way to the bathroom. He was completely flabbergasted for perhaps the fifth time in his entire life.

What did Duo want from him, anyway?

He should have asked for more money, but that practical, smug part of him reminded him that Duo would have paid any amount he'd demanded, just to get him in exactly the same position. It was bad enough being a whore, he didn't need to be a greedy one as well.

If it bothers you that much, Heero, then why are you doing it?

He was distracted from his thoughts briefly as he heard the shower running. Heero got up from the loveseat and walked to the balcony, still naked, and stood there with his arms crossed, one shoulder leaning against the doorframe.

It wasn't enough. Was never going to be enough. He was starting to suspect that his motivation was weak at best; completely, insanely irrational, pointless, and somewhat self-destructive at worst.

There was heavy cloud accumulation overhead, and his eyes stared into the starless night.

It seemed fitting, somehow.

~~~~~~~

Duo was tempted to run the shower on the cold side, but decided he wasn't about to punish himself for Heero's obstinacy.

It had felt damned good, in more ways than one, he thought, looking down at his still swollen cock. Closing his eyes, he ran one lathered hand up and down its length, savoring the feel of the slick suds seeping through his fingers and dripping down his sac.

He pictured Heero's mouth there instead, the way he'd imagined it probably looked when Heero had sucked him off that first night. Imagined how it would feel without the condom, to feel Heero's tongue massage his flesh. He gasped a little and used his free hand to steady himself.

He imagined Heero's cock, jutting out from that small brown thatch. He saw himself taking it into his mouth, and hearing Heero's hiss of response...

Warm spurts of white fluid covered his hand and he laughed to himself. Looks like Heero managed to get him off, anyway, even in absentia.

~~~~~~~~

Heero felt a slight chill in the air, but made no move to close the balcony doors or to fetch a robe. He welcomed it.

God, the memories were getting harder to keep at bay, and he had little control over which ones were coming to the forefront of his mind. He couldn't imagine what it was like for an amnesiac, regaining odd glimpses of memory, yet having nothing concrete to attach them to.

Or was that a good thing?

__

/"Hurrow! You're back!" He found himself tackled by an armful of five-year-old energy. "I missed you, Hurrow!"

She still had trouble pronouncing his name, he noted with fondness.

"I told you I'd be back, he said, suffering gladly the enthusiastic hug she was bestowing upon him. He breathed in the clean fresh smell of her baby shampoo, a scent he always associated with her. It emphasized the fact that he was home.

She let go of him and backed up a step, then scowled at him in almost perfect imitation of one of his own.

"The people who subtitled your house were mean!" she said.

He laughed softly. "You mean sublet."

"They were mean!" she emphasized with a stomp of her foot, impatient that he was deliberately missing her point.

"What can I do to make it up to you?" he said, smiling at her warmly.

"Marry me!"

He laughed again, this time a deep rich chuckle. She kicked him squarely in the shin.

"Don't laugh at me!"

"I'm not," he denied, then gave lie to his words by doing just that.

"I know I'm too little NOW," she said with a dramatic sigh. "I'm talking about LATER, when I'm all grown up. Right now, you're more like my bestest friend, more than any of THOSE guys," she said, pointing at her house.

It was most likely true. He'd spent far more time with her than any of her siblings, the curse of being the eighth and youngest child as well as the only girl. Her brothers seemed to think that she wouldn't be interested in "boy stuff" and left her out of a lot of activities.

"Of course," he said, struggling to adopt a more serious expression. It was difficult to do so, as her face was scrunched up in the cutest little pout.

"He said you were never coming back, that your parents were leaving you in Japan!" she blurted out.

"He?"

"The BOY!" she yelled, a telltale sheen of tears in her eyes. "Pay attention!"

Part of him wanted to laugh again at her leaps in logic, determining that she was talking about the temporary tenants and why she'd thought they were mean. Another part of him wanted to draw her into a fierce embrace and tell her he'd gladly wait until she was old enough to marry. Of course she'd change her mind when she was older, but it was rather heartwarming that she felt that way now.

He settled for brushing the knuckle of one finger near the corner of her eye to wipe away the bit of moisture that had gathered.

"I TOLD him you'd be back!" she said, her voice choking on a sob.

"And you were right, and he was wrong." She nodded eagerly. "He was a big, fat liar," he added, looking very serious indeed, and she grinned at him, fully recovered as was common for children of that age.

"That's right, Hurrow." Then her brows furrowed. "That's still not right, is it?"

He couldn't lie to her. Never had been able to. "No."

"Can you speak Japanese now?"

The way her mind darted from one topic to another still astounded him.

"Is your name Japanese?"

"Yes."

"Are YOU Japanese?"

"I'm American," he corrected, and she frowned at him.

"HURROW!"

"I was born here. That makes me an American."

She seemed to digest this a bit. Then she brightened. "How do you say 'husb'nd'?"

"What?"

"In Jap-a-nese," rolling her eyes to emphasize the unspoken 'duh' in that statement.

"Aisaika."

She frowned. "Too hard. Besides, I'm not old enough for that yet. How do you say brother?"

"Older or younger?"

"It doesn't matter!" she stamped her foot again, then looked at his very solemn expression. "It does? Or for Pete's sake!" She glared at him, and he once again found himself biting back a chuckle. Actually, it was obvious which one she'd need to know, having only older brothers herself. She wouldn't really need to know otouto herself unless her parents were planning on starting their own country.

"Oniisan. Or oniichan."

"Oh-knee-san," she attempted carefully, then looked at him. He repeated it for her. "Oh-nii-san," she tried it again, rolling her tongue in her mouth as if she were actually tasting the word.

"Or just plain 'niisan."

She beamed at him. "Niisan."/

~~~~~~~

Duo wasn't exactly surprised to see that Heero hadn't returned to the bedroom yet, figuring he most likely needed time to process the latest development in their little 'relationship.'

He was surprised, however, to wake up early the next morning to find Heero curled in a ball facing him. Heero was lying on his left side at the edge of the bed, putting the most distance between them, but his left arm was extended out in front of him, his fingers slightly curled toward the ceiling. The knuckles were just millimeters from grazing Duo's arm.

Duo sat up and gave Heero a once-over before getting out of bed and heading for the shower. It was going to be a very long, very painful day.

God, he hated these networking events.

~~~~~~~

Heero's eyes fluttered when he felt the shift of Duo's weight on the bed. He felt emotionally drained. How much sleep had he gotten? Two hours? Three?

He hoped Duo didn't expect him to be fresh as a daisy for this 'thing' they had to attend today.

The desire to crawl under the covers was back again. Was he going to wake up like this every morning as long as he was staying with Duo? Worse yet, was it going to continue even after the week ended? He swallowed a bitter laugh before it could escape, picturing himself with thinning gray hair, age spots and a plastic hip, still trying to burrow into the mattress.

The water in the bathroom was off, and Heero expected to see Duo saunter out at any second, but five minutes later the door was still shut. His bladder started to protest slightly, and that sarcastic chuckle was threatening to emerge again. Suddenly he was struck with the awareness that he _really_ needed to use the bathroom, and Duo was still in there.

This was certainly a situation he'd never imagined before.

The door opened, and Duo was wrapping an elastic band around the end of his wet braid. Heero slid out of bed and stood up, hoping Duo wasn't about to play any games with him this morning, unless he wanted to be the sudden recipient of an entirely new 'sexual experience' and in need of a second shower. He couldn't imagine Duo being into that type of kink, but what did he really know about this man, other than Duo seemed to have a way of knocking him off balance when he least expected it.

He must have been shifting his weight from one foot to the other, because Duo smirked slightly, then tilted his head toward the open door.

"All yours."

And Heero was struck with yet another of those indefinable pangs that had been cropping up an awful lot lately.

~~~~~~

"Normally I'd say 'just be yourself,'" Duo was telling Heero as they stood near a kiosk providing beverages for all and sundry. "But all things considered, I'm not sure if that's such a good idea."

Heero bristled at the implied slur. Hadn't he handled himself with the utmost comportment at the dinner with the Peacecrafts? It had been Duo who'd effectively ruined that gathering.

Duo wanted to kick himself. It seemed he could not hold his tongue around Heero, probably not even if he used both hands. A sideways glance at Heero gave him an idea of a much more effective way for his mouth to be silenced, and he quelled that immediately. Nothing like a prominent bulge in one's trousers to make a stellar impression on the masses.

Heero still insisted, without saying a word, on wearing that damned wig. His loose button down shirt rippled with the appearance of a sudden breeze, and it would have been nice to see Heero's impossible-to-tame hair ruffled the same way. All in all, he'd really seen very little of it.

Heero looked good in casual clothing. Not too casual, of course. Apperances had to be maintained to some degree. A pale yellow linen oxford, buttoned at the cuffs, and trim pants of a deep green color bordering on black. In his haste to get Heero fitted for clothes, he'd forgotten to take the shoes into account, but a quick call down to one of the hotel's shops had a pair of soft soled boots of mahogany-colored suede at the room in the time it took for Heero to shower.

He himself had opted for a pair of charcoal slacks and a shirt of such a vibrant red, it screamed 'look at me,' and therefore could only be worn by someone with complete self confidence. A 'power shirt,' in a sense. It was very distracting without being tacky or tasteless, and in Duo's experience, distraction was a very powerful weapon.

His appearance and Heero's could not be more different, and for a moment Duo felt that he was wearing something better suited for Heero, as if the two of them had accidentally worn each other's clothes that morning.

Except that he had a broader build than Heero, and therefore would never be able to get into those pants. He groaned inwardly at the unintentional innuendo.

The hair of Heero's wig wasn't pulled back into the tight ponytail it had sported for the last two days. It was left loose, some of the strands tickling his face, although he showed no sign of noticing. Duo wanted to reach up and smooth them away from Heero's eyes, which were, of course, brown again.

"What?" Heero's terse query made him realize he'd just sighed out loud.

"Just being here," Duo said. "I am wondering how long I will last before someone makes me want to tear my hair out."

Heero flicked his eyes to the end of the braid, which twitched slightly as Duo shrugged, then at Duo.

He was saved from having to make any comment by the sudden appearance of a woman who was completely overdressed for this quasi-casual festival. Even in the fresh air, the cloying scent of a heavy perfume hung about her like a cloud.

Heero's nose wrinkled instinctively, and Duo made eye contact with him, just for a moment, before turning his attention to the woman, who was obviously after more than just a little of Duo's time.

What did Duo really want him here for, anyway?

Duo had said he wanted to be saved from the clutches of people like this, and yet here he was, talking and laughing at things she said; incredibly inane, self-centered things. He was a consummate actor, Heero realized with a shocked awareness. Even Duo's eyes were engaged in the illusion that he was truly interested in what the woman had to say.

How did he do that? Heero was able to hide behind a mask of solitude when necessary, but he'd known precious few people who could smile and stab you in the back so convincingly, without even the slightest hint of something not-quite-right in their eyes.

Dangerous. That continued to be the word Heero associated with Duo the most.

"Excuse me, my dear lady," Duo said, patting one of the hands that had latched onto his. "I see some acquaintances that I must attend to."

"Of course," she said, digging into her reticule for something. She pulled out a calling card, also heavily scented, and kissed it briefly before handing it to Duo and departing with a suggestive wink, and then a dismissive glance at Heero, whom she'd just noticed.

Duo looked at the card in his hand and shuddered, then he handed it to Heero, who promptly ripped it in two and let the pieces fall prey to the wind.

"Jealous?" Duo said with a grin, then frowned briefly. "Carnivores, the lot of them." He briefly touched Heero's arm. "Come, I have to make good on what I said to Antiope before she comes back."

"Making you Heracles, I suppose?" Heero said, once again kicking himself mentally at Duo's look of surprise.

"Only if you're Theseus," he said, the grin back in play at the expression of abject horror on Heero's face.

~~~~~~

Relena tried not to twist her hands in the hem of her sundress, but her brother's pacing was causing her own level of agitation to rise by degrees.

"Milliardo," she said, hoping that her calm tone would at least get him to stop and look at her.

He'd been fit to be tied when he'd read the latest snippet comparing his current business situation to a military operation. Unfortunately she had to agree that the blurb had all but come out and said that if he'd made as many errors in judgement in his previous career as he seemed to be with his family's legacy, then the nation was much safer with him a civilian.

Their father had been convalescing in a mountain village of the Swiss Alps, his declining health more a result of mental duress than physical illness. Milliardo had been trying so hard to set things right, not wanting to 'run to daddy' as he'd said angrily one night after Relena asked if he'd heard from their father.

She had hoped that this festival, which actually sounded rather fun, might help smooth his ruffled feathers, but she wasn't very optimistic. Therefore her own chances of having a good time seemed to be dwindling.

It was a casual affair, and her brother had conceded to wearing a T-shirt under a loosely buttoned shirt, both tucked into a pair of navy pants. He would have looked relaxed if not for the air of tension that oozed from every pore.

She resisted the impulse to heave a sigh of relief when he finally grabbed his keys and barked at her to get it in gear before he left without her.

tbc

~~~~~~~~

In Greek mythology, Antiope was sister to Hippolyte, Amazon queen. Heracles (Hercules in Roman mythology), as part of his Twelve Labors, had to steal the girdle from her. Of course, the Amazons are powerful women, and Heracles and Theseus had a real fight on their hands. Depending on the version you read, Antiope was either killed in this battle, or was kidnapped by Theseus. In some versions, Theseus and Antiope later married. Heh.

I almost censored Duo's shower scene, but I don't think it's particularly graphic, so I left it alone.

~~~~~~~~

holly - I always look forward to your reviews. They are in depth and as such really let me know if I'm accomplishing what I'd hoped to with each chapter.

feckless - I'm certainly doing my best to update regularly. There is a lot more ground to cover before the story comes to a close!

Alana Quinn - I won't ask. Maybe Heero could figure out the vagaries of internet connectivity, but I can't. I'm immensely flattered that you're going to such lengths to read this (and that Natea is to provide you with updates).

Lucifer Marque de Forcee - glad you're enjoying it. As I mentioned in my response to feckless, I am doing my best to keep writing so I don't run out of steam.

princess2000204 - Thanks. I think I mentioned at the end of chapter 10 that my user name for mm.org is different. You can access it directly through the bio page.

Violette Mai - thanks for the compliment. Of course by now you know what Duo wanted Heero to do for him back in Chapter 9.

My apologies to anyone I neglected to respond to, and thank you, everyone for your words of encouragement. It really does help inspire me to write. I know what I want to write, it's just the sitting down and typing it part that gets me after a while. I hope this fic continues to live up to its praise as the story continues to unfold.


	12. Trust

****

The Edulcoration of Duo Maxwell - 12/?

~~~~~~~

Note: This fic is a response to Nova Una's challenge to write a Gundam Wing/Pretty Woman fusion fic with Heero in the Julia Roberts role and Duo in the Richard Gere role.

Warnings: AU, yaoi, coarse language, violence, angst, citrusy situations, suggestive dialog, _significant_ (read that as major, MAJOR) deviation from Pretty Woman script.

Spoilers: None for GW, oodles for Pretty Woman, to an extent.

Disclaimer: I don't really need to be Captain Obvious here, do I? No ownership, no profit, yadda yadda. Written for fun, not profit. Don't own any of the brand names mentioned herein.

__

Edulcorate (verb) - To free from harshness (as of attitude); to soften

~~~~~~~

****

Chapter 12 - Trust

Duo introduced him to a dark-haired couple. They were of similar ethnic background, as they both had eyes so dark they were almost black. Heero would venture a guess that they were Chinese.

"Heero, this is Wufei Chang and Meiran Long," he said, and once again Heero was forced to shake hands. It was a little easier to share the gesture with the woman. She seemed to focus much of her attention on Duo after she acknowledged Heero with a quick but firm grip and a smile.

Wufei was looking at him appraisingly. It was exceedingly awkward to be addressed by first name only when the others were introduced using their full names. It emphasized the differences between them all.

Once again Heero wondered why it bothered him.

Meiran said something to Duo, who laughed in response. Wufei, Heero suspected, would like nothing more than to make him submit to a full interrogation. He obviously wasn't very trusting, although in this case Heero couldn't say he blamed the man.

Especially when he realized that Duo was standing just a little too close to him. He could feel Duo's elbow brush against his sleeve as he gestured toward some of the booths set up.

Meiran's eyes lit with excitement. "Wufei!" she said, finally diverting her companion's attention from Heero. "An archery range!"

Wufei's expression actually softened the tiniest bit. "You'll have to excuse _my wife_," he said. "She just took up the sport, and now seems to think that she has a chance of beating me."

Heero didn't miss the underlying message that said in big neon letters HANDS OFF.

"Shut up, Wufei," she said amiably. "Put your money where your mouth is. Nice meeting you, Heero," she added. "I'm sure we'll see you two after I finish kicking his ass."

Wufei snorted and allowed himself to be dragged over to the impressive selection of recurve bows provided.

Duo nudged Heero with the same elbow that had made contact earlier. "Let's go watch Wufei lose, because he does it so gracefully," Duo said with a laugh, indicating he meant just the opposite.

As they approached the area cordoned off for spectators, Duo noticed Heero's attention momentarily diverted by the rifle shooting range, and he slowed.

"Hey, Heero," he said, a gleam in his eye.

Heero hated that gleam. He raised an eyebrow in query.

Duo motioned towards the men who were good-naturedly teasing each other about their prowess with their weapons, the light-hearted banter obviously full of insults about each other's manhood.

"Ever handled one of those babies before?"

Heero's throat constricted, and he was horrified to feel his head nod slightly.

"Good. I'd like to see just how well you 'measure up' to these boys here."

Heero wanted to protest, wanted to refuse, but he was already treading on thin ice with Duo, and he nodded again, then walked over to peruse the available firearms.

Duo wiped his chin of imaginary drool, as his mouth watered just watching Heero's bold strides. How the hell had someone like Heero ended up as a prostitute? He moved aggressively, as if daring anyone to come anywhere near the outer limits of his personal space. He supposed it was a real turn-on for some men, but he couldn't help wondering how the hell Heero drummed up enough business with that attitude. Well, this was Hollywood.

His pants seemed to be a little tight as he watched Heero handle the rifles, his fingers almost caressing the slender metal barrel as he checked its sights. He knew how slim yet strong those fingers were. He had to force himself to visualize the woman they'd encountered earlier butt naked before the slight discomfort abated.

Heero wasn't all that impressed with the Kimber 22 Classic, although it was an admirable firearm. His attention swung to the Cooper that had just been replaced on the gun rack. He glared down one of the shooters who was reaching for it, and the man covered up his fear by commenting that it wasn't the gun, it was the marksman, that really made the difference.

Heero picked up the 57-M and felt the familiar weight in his hand. It wasn't like the Remington 700 he was more familiar with, but it would do.

Despite his trepidation at stirring up old memories, he couldn't help but feel a bit of that familiar thrill he vaguely remembered. 

He moved to the table containing protective gear. The ear plugs were disposable, which gave him some small measure of relief, ironic considering what he'd been allowing in other orifices of his body, then carefully placed the muffs over them to avoid disturbing the hairpiece he was wearing.

He glowered at the range officer, making him, as well as some of the other men who were in line, shrink back somewhat, and thereby placing him at the front of the line. There was a momentary delay while the targets were re-papered, and he cursed his weakness in checking for Duo out of the corner of his eye during the wait. Then the target was ready, and he focused on that instead.

He released the safety, pulled back the bolt, and took his sighting shot. He was off by about half an inch, as far as he could tell from this distance. He made the necessary correction, then fired the remaining four rounds right in the center of the target.

He shot another dark look at the person who'd subtly insulted him earlier, and handed the rifle to next individual in line, not caring that the man was already holding one. The ear muffs were tossed onto the table where he'd obtained them.

He stalked away from the makeshift range, ignoring the stares he was getting. He was angry at the rush of excitement that he'd felt with the Cooper in his hands, angry at Duo for putting him in such an awkward position, angry at the circumstances that brought him where he was now.

He didn't care if Duo was pissed. He didn't want to talk to him right now.

~~~~~~~

Duo whistled in appreciation at Heero's shooting accuracy. He was certainly full of surprises. He had seemed uncomfortable at the idea of handling a gun, but he'd obviously had experience. What had Heero been involved in? Was it even legal?

He wanted to laugh. Prostitution wasn't exactly legal, either, and yet Heero was doing that. What kind of moral fiber was someone like Heero made of? Fine time to ask that question, after he'd been rooming with the man for the past few nights.

He still had three more days after today to find out, if he wanted to. And the more glimpses he got into Heero's psyche, the more he wanted to.

He decided to let Heero sulk for a while. Speaking of sulking, he looked around for his friends. He should find out whether or not Meiran had shown Wufei a thing or two. As he'd hinted to Heero, Chang was not a very good loser.

~~~~~~~

He found Meiran first, and she was alone, telling him all he needed to know. A victorious Wufei Chang would be have been rubbing it in for a while longer.

"He's intriguing," she said without preamble.

"Who?" Duo asked, knowing full well whom she meant. And she knew that he knew, which is why she punched him in the arm.

"Ow! I thought women only did that slapping across the face thing," he protested.

"As if I'd let you get off so easily," she said, and blushed as Duo leered at the double entendre. "You are so lucky Wufei isn't here to rein in that perverse sense of humor you have." She punched him again.

One thing Duo really liked about Meiran is that she knew when to let things drop. She could have pursued the Heero question, but she didn't. Instead, they fell into a light-hearted discussion of various people there, and Meiran provided the insight gained from playing the part of a vapid wife. Duo never ceased to be amazed how well she pulled it off, because, to him, she always seemed so tightly wound at these functions. She had her own set of opinions, but never got on a soapbox about them. She had tact.

If he and Hilde had worked out, would he have done the same to her? He couldn't picture Hilde tamping down her vibrant personality, for love or money. Ironic turn of phrase, he noted.

~~~~~~

Heero didn't know how Duo could stand it. This was a parody of a county fair, full of people with more money than they knew what to do with it. The rifle selection seemed to cover a good number of .22 models straight out of Rifle Shooter Magazine. Sure, the men had been enjoying themselves, but that wasn't why they'd attended. He wondered whose faces they envisioned on the targets as they took aim and fired, then decided he didn't really care.

"Heero!"

His thoughts were interrupted by a chipper voice, slightly muffled. He removed the ear plugs and turned to see the source of the voice. She was calling to him from the dog show stage.

A fucking dog show. What wasn't going on as part of this godforsaken event? Next you knew there would be horse-riding poodles set up somewhere.

He recognized Relena Peacecraft immediately, and his features slowly relaxed. She had been pleasant company the other night, and he walked over to join her.

"It's so nice to see a familiar face," she said, shooting a look over her shoulder at her brother, who was standing several yards away and shooting him a look that promised severe retribution if anything untoward happened to Relena.

"He has been a bear all day," she whispered, then looked as embarrassed as if she'd revealed a family secret. Heero glanced at Milliardo again. It was obvious the man was in a foul mood, and he was pretty sure he knew why.

"Your hair looks nice down," she commented, and he reached a hand to the black strands. He'd noticed Duo's look of disappointment, and near disapproval, that morning, but he felt more comfortable with certain features concealed. Besides, surely Duo had to realize they might run into the Peacecrafts here? It would bring up a whole new load of questions if Heero showed up with Duo, looking nothing like he had the first time they'd met. Not that he cared what Duo thought, one way or another.

"Thank you," he said, letting his hand drop back to his side. "Are you enjoying yourself?" he inquired politely.

She kept looking at her brother every ten seconds, and Heero couldn't help but feel sympathy for the girl's plight. Suddenly her whole body tensed, and Heero flicked his eyes to the side briefly to see Peacecraft talking with another gentlemen, one who was dressed smartly in what could only be considered the epitome of business casual, and yet still carried an aura of class and sophistication.

"Are you alright?" he heard himself ask.

"I'm not sure yet," she said, returning her gaze to his. She sighed. "I am sorry, Heero. Things have been...tense."

He nodded in understanding. Duo had certainly done nothing to help that particular situation, either.

"He keeps things from me," she said, almost as if speaking to herself. "He expects me to trust him, but he keeps me in the dark. Like I'm not strong enough to handle the truth. It's painfully obvious that he's getting desperate, and I fear he's going to make a horrible mistake, and hate himself for it. But I'm supposed to go blithely along with what he thinks is right, because I am too young or naive or weak to be dragged into this. It's _my_ company, too, and I have every right to be informed just as much as he does. How can I trust him when he keeps so much from me?" she added softly.

"Do you?"

She looked at him sadly. "Would you call me crazy if I said yes? To trust someone who doesn't even trust himself?" She shook her head, laughing a bit, but looking on the verge of tears. "How can I not trust someone who has my best interests at heart? Do I think he will necessarily make the right decision in the end? No. But I do trust that he will do what he perceives will secure things for my future. And in the end, that's all that really counts." Her eyes swung to Heero, her gaze steady and unwavering. "I don't always agree with my brother, and sometimes I don't think I like him very much, but I will always trust him and I will always love him."

She must have noticed the pensive look on Heero's face, because she asked, "is something wrong, Heero?"

He smiled at her then. "No. You just remind me of someone I used to know."

Relena opened her mouth to ask for more, but decided that she had her hands full with one man trapped in the past and certainly didn't need to discover she'd managed to find a second one to worry about. The two of them watched as the first entrant in the novice category was trotted out on the stage.

~~~~~~

"Are you happy?"

Duo started at Meiran's sudden question.

"You donate a large sum of money every year to various youth organizations. Wufei has complained about your hesitation a few times when a business acquisition might negatively impact certain housing developments. Other than that, I've never seen a couple of businessmen as ruthless as you two."

Duo's eyes swung toward hers. She looked contemplative.

"ARE you happy, Duo? Is that what this thing with Heero is really about?"

"Hilde thinks I might be gay," he said.

"I'm not sure if you're trying to make a very poor joke, or trying to pawn off your misery on a sudden attack of self exploration. What are you trying to find, Duo? " she pondered. "Why don't you volunteer your time rather than your money? Is it an investment you can't afford?"

I take back what I was thinking about you earlier, Duo thought. Don't push it, Meiran.

He could have kissed Wufei for his sudden appearance.

"Nice of you to join us," Duo said. "Done licking your wounds yet?"

Wufei opened his mouth to reply, then asked, "what is he doing talking to Relena Peacecraft?"

Duo looked in the direction in which Wufei's gaze was riveted, and saw Heero and Relena standing rather closely. Heero reached up to touch his hair and then said something. Eventually he even smiled at her.

Wufei was cursing. "Damn it, Duo, what have you gotten yourself involved in? Fraternizing with the enemy? It's obvious he's a plant! You didn't tell him what your amazing comeback plan is, did you?"

Duo didn't care for the implication that he was that stupid. He whirled on his partner and snarled in a voice just loud enough for his partner to hear, "he's a fucking WHORE, Wufei, satisfied now? I picked him up in YOUR CAR, by the way, and I even let him drive it. What more do you want to hear? Want me to tell you that we managed to find a way to fuck in the backseat, but that I think we managed to wipe it clean before you got the car back?" He calmed a little, and shot an apologetic glance at Meiran, who could only hear parts of what was being said. "Sorry. Listen, he's not involved in any industrial espionage. He's just a prostitute I picked up on Hollywood Boulevard the other night, after Hilde broke up with me. End of story. Trust me on this, OK?"

A myriad of emotions crossed Wufei's face; disbelief, anger, horrified indignation. He turned toward Heero and Relena again. Then he noticed the elder Peacecraft standing a short distance away, and his heart stopped.

"Who the hell is that with Milliardo Peacecraft?"

Duo looked at him incredulously. "What? Wufei, I know you subscribe to Business Week; his smiling mug was right on this week's cover. What's the matter, Meiran and you too busy exercising your marital privileges the day that issue arrived?"

He could sense the tension in Wufei and didn't think he was making things any better, but he had never seen his partner look so very stricken.

"Who is it?" Wufei repeated, gritting his teeth.

He knew who it was, knew very well who it was, but needed someone to confirm it for him; needed to hear it. Needed to know that the man responsible for his most crushing legal defeat was, in fact, standing there, calm as anything, speaking with the owner of a company they were trying to overtake.

"Geez, Wufei, it's the CEO of Zodiac..."

Meiran's voice interrupted him.

"Treize Khushrenada."

tbc

~~~~~~~

OK, who _didn't_ see that one coming?

Other notes: 

Cooper's Model 57-M does have a bolt action repeater, and boy, was I tearing my hair out just to verify that it meant exactly what it sounds like, that the rounds could be fired after the bolt was pulled back to load the first bullet in the magazine. Phew! My entire first hand experience with a 22 was a few target shots with a Ruger back in 1991, so I had to pick a few brains and check more than a few web sites. All that just to determine whether or not Heero had to pull the bolt after each shot! I wasn't even sure if there were repeating rifles, at least for target shooting. I now think I'm more confused that I was when I started! ;)

feckless - Glad you like seeing bits of Heero's past crop up. Hopefully it will all gel in the end!

holly - once again, _always_ a pleasure to read your reviews! I hate to admit that my updating is much slower these days. I haven't really gotten to sit down to do any serious for two full days, although I did get some of my researching done. I'm hoping that real life will afford me the opportunity to really get back into the swing of writing, because I don't want to lose the momentum at this point! I do try to footnote things that I include, such as the mythology and Lorelei Lee, because I hate when I read a story and sit there wondering about the references made. Unless I suspect that it is a subtle hint for things to come, in which case it's not quite so maddening!

SweetAlexial - Thanks so much for your comment on the personalities of the characters! That was a real challenge for me, to try to keep everyone as much in character as possible, and one of the reasons I decided to accept this fic challenge in the first place. It's one of the driving reasons behind my severe deviation from a lot of the original plot.

Alana Quinn - at the rate things around here have been going, pretty soon I'll have the chapters on ff.net caught up to mm.org! I am really trying to get back into the writing mode, but every time I am ready to really hammer out something, I am pulled back into the real world rather abruptly! I'm hoping maybe sometime in the wee hours I can manage to stay awake long enough to make some progress. I'm as eager to write them as you are to read them!

Michikaru - you're welcome!

Devona - Welcome to the havoc I've wreaked with the Pretty Woman script! I don't know how 'hilarious' you've found the chapters after the first one, but I do hope you enjoy them just as much.

Did I miss anyone? My apologies, if so. I won't always respond to everyone's reviews, but that's sometimes a good thing, as it means I'm hard at work on the next chapter instead! Thanks for taking the time to let me know how much you enjoy it; it really does help motivate me, which is why it's so frustrating when I can't get enough time to sit and write! I got spoiled early on, and now it's maddening! Maddening, I tell you!


	13. Regret, Part 1

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The Edulcoration of Duo Maxwell - 13/?

~~~~~~~

Note: This fic is a response to Nova Una's challenge to write a Gundam Wing/Pretty Woman fusion fic with Heero in the Julia Roberts role and Duo in the Richard Gere role.

Warnings: AU, yaoi, coarse language, violence, angst, citrusy situations, suggestive dialog, _significant_ (read that as major, MAJOR) deviation from Pretty Woman script.

Spoilers: None for GW, oodles for Pretty Woman, to an extent.

Disclaimer: I don't really need to be Captain Obvious here, do I? No ownership, no profit, yadda yadda. Written for fun, not profit. Don't own any of the brand names mentioned herein.

__

Edulcorate (verb) - To free from harshness (as of attitude); to soften

~~~~~~~

****

Chapter 13 - Regret, Part 1

"You can't, or you won't?" Milliardo asked, his eyes glittering. He expected his teeth would be ground to the bone by the time this 'conversation' was over.

"My dear Milliardo," Treize said, the very picture of poise. "As I said yesterday, friends and business do not mix. Did I not attempt to provide you with some assistance, without getting personally involved?"

"They don't have enough capital yet! They're a small family business!"

"And Peacecraft Corp is not?" He sighed. "Milliardo, think of the big picture. You have to see that they also have been building up their fortune, little by little..."

"And it's taken them _generations_!" He didn't have that kind of time, not if he wanted the company to be around for any future Peacecrafts.

"They have a solid reputation, as well," Treize continued, as if the interruption had never happened.

He wanted to pull out his hair, he really did. He'd forgotten how utterly maddening Khushrenada could be, which was surprising considering how angry the man had made him during their phone conversation the previous day.

Treize saw that there was no arguing with his friend. "You will see that this really is for the best, Milliardo," he said almost sadly. "Perhaps not in the immediate future, but you will."

Milliardo Peacecraft watched him walk away, just like that, to mingle with a few others that were good enough to share the same air. He'd just been dismissed. He struggled to tamp down the rage that flowed through him.

This was for Relena, his inner voice pleaded to Treize's retreating figure.

Relena. His eyes left Khushrenada and returned to his sister, who was still speaking to Maxwell's...friend. He didn't know what game the man was playing, but he didn't like the idea of his sister getting too chummy with the enemy.

That was one thing he had control over, at least.

~~~~~~~

Wufei was seeing red. Treize Khushrenada. Not only that, but there was that word, burning into his brain again. _Whore._ Meiran had called him that, and it was all Khushrenada's fault.

He knew he would be making a colossal mistake to confront the man now. The bastard was so damned gracious. When Treize's closing arguments had been given, Wufei knew then, before the jury returned from their deliberation, that his client was going to jail, and there wasn't a thing he could do about it.

And the man later came over and shook his hand, telling him that he made a convincing argument, and likely would have won if he'd only had the full story.

The story his client had withheld from him.

He'd have preferred it if Khushrenada had gloated, but the man had to compliment him instead. He'd given Wufei pause to think. 

If he'd only had the full story.

His ire continued to climb, and he was barely aware of anything around him other than Khushrenada, who was walking away.

Which left the other source of his anger within striking distance.

The whore.

~~~~~~~

"Relena!"

Relena's head whipped around at the sharp tone of her brother's voice, then turned to face Heero.

"I apologize, Heero," she said. "He tends to be a bit...overprotective..."

Heero shook his head. "I understand."

She peered at him curiously. "You really do, don't you?" She smiled broadly, then leaned over and planted the lightest of kisses on his cheek. "Thanks."

He watched her walk away. He understood Milliardo Peacecraft's concerns perfectly.

"How much is _she_ paying you?" came a caustic voice at his right.

Heero turned slowly and met Wufei's challenging stare. He refused to be baited. Would not be baited...

"Not half as much as your wife," Heero said, just before Wufei's fist connected with his jaw.

~~~~~~~

"I'm really sorry, Meiran," Duo said. "I didn't mean to crank him up, you know."

He didn't like that slightly disapproving look on her face. She sighed, and shrugged.

"I think I have the answer to one of my questions, Duo," she said, and from the sad look on her face, he knew which one she was referring to. Then she murmured, almost too softly to be heard, "Love and justice aren't the only things that are blind."

Duo saw the instant her face flushed scarlet, and he looked over to see Heero's head snap back from Wufei's punch. What had he missed?

Meiran was livid, he could tell. Heero touched his mouth, which most likely had a split lip, and without a word, turned and walked away. Where the hell did he think he was going?

Duo looked from Meiran to Wufei to Heero, and she solved his indecision for him.

"Go, Duo. Chang is mine."

~~~~~~

Relena and Milliardo traveled home in silence. She chewed on her lip the entire way, trying to decide how to approach what she wanted to say.

Maybe she'd been tiptoeing around her brother for far too long. She wanted to be treated like an equal partner, didn't she? That meant she had to sometimes say things that weren't going to make him happy.

And is he happy now, Relena?

He threw his keys on a table near the door, knocking a vase of flowers over. It shattered on the floor, and he deliberately walked over it, grinding the broken pieces into dust.

"Milliardo," she said firmly, surprised that her voice was steady.

He turned and glared, then shoved his hands in his pockets, waiting.

"Why haven't you -" she faltered. Be strong, Relena, she coached herself. "Why haven't you contacted Father to see if he had any ideas?"

"He won't always be here, Relena. I have to learn sometime, don't I? Now that I'm a _civilian_ and all."

Great. Now he'd be carrying around TWO scraps of paper for self-flagellation purposes for God knew how long.

"I'm a grown man, Relena. I will not run to daddy just because of a minor setback."

It was more than a minor setback, and they both knew it. But that was what she'd hoped he'd say.

"Then you shouldn't go running to your friends, either," she said, then turned and walked as calmly as possible to her room, resisting the temptation to bolt out of there before he lost his temper.

~~~~~~~

"What the hell was that all about?"

"This doesn't concern you, Meiran," he warned.

"The hell it doesn't! I'm your wife, and what concerns you, concerns me! We're partners as well as lovers, Chang!"

He looked around, embarrassed at the attention they were drawing.

"Meiran..."

"No, this time YOU listen to me. I have gone out of my way to fulfill my role, perpetuating this ludicrous, outdated concept of the decorative, supportive wife in the background. I did it because I respected you, Chang, and if that's what it took for others to respect you, so be it. How unfair I was to both of us. Respect comes from within, not from the prattling of others - and the funny thing is, I don't really regret having to swallow my pride, because I acted as I felt was right at the time. Remember pride, Wufei? Remember passion? My GOD, Wufei, do you even remember how to live?"

"You wouldn't understand."

"Fuck that," she said, and Wufei could not remember a time in his life when she'd once uttered that word. "Why not? Because I'm a woman? Because I'm not sucked into this big bad...Corporate World," she wiggled her fingers in the air for emphasis. "I won't understand, he says," she spoke to the crowd that had gathered around them.

She turned back to her husband, her black eyes blazing with anger. When she spoke again, her voice was low, and very deadly.

"I cannot even tell you how very much you hurt me, Chang." She gathered herself a bit, then turned to smile airily at everyone, but not before Wufei saw a faint sheen over her eyes.

"Must be time for my Prozac," she exclaimed, her voice sounding high pitched and nothing like her normal level tone. Ditzy. Several of them nodded in understanding, making Wufei wince. Was this what he had reduced her to? Couldn't they see that there could not be a single person less in need of an antidepressant than the woman he'd married? Did they really think she was only an ornamental wife?

"What the hell are you all looking at?" he roared, making them scurry away. Most likely discussing how he'd probably missed his Prozac dose, too.

Where the hell was Duo?

Oh, that's right. He went chasing after 'Heero.'

His reputation was most likely in shambles now. He'd kill Duo for this later.

Right after he got over the intense, inexplicable feeling of jealousy he suddenly felt for his friend and partner.

~~~~~~

Duo tried to catch up to Heero, but found himself slowed in his progress by an elderly gentleman whom they'd had business dealings with in the past. Duo struggled to remember the man's name. Dermail. The man had a vendetta against them, of course. Duo wasn't too concerned about the man's veiled threats. That had been a rather successful coup, he thought, but he couldn't help the involuntary chill in his body as he remembered the man's granddaughter, who had taken her place in the meetings as if she were the one in charge, an amused, gloating smirk omnipresent on her face. She had hair that rivaled Peacecraft's and a rather morbid sense of humor, if he remembered correctly. Not to mention eyebrows that looked like they were parasitic entities feeding off their host.

By the time he shook Dermail, Heero was nowhere to be found.

~~~~~~~

If he thought their last argument was bad, this one had to be the worst. Wufei decided he'd give Meiran half an hour, then go to the apartment.

He'd sit and wait in that damn car for half an hour, that double damned car where Duo had made his first step in getting in way over his head. The car was evil, not to mention a symbol of materialism at its finest. If he hadn't trusted his partner with his very life, he would have gladly killed him for stealing it. It wasn't that he'd worried that anyone else had taken it. Parts on the black market would be difficult to get rid of, and anyone driving the car itself would attract immediate attention.

Including himself. He never used to want that. Here he was, driving a car that bragged that he was disgustingly wealthy and arguing with his wife in the most public of places. What better way to attract the attention he supposedly didn't want?

It was a good thing he hadn't had a weapon with him, because he was sure he'd have very calmly killed Khushrenada. Or maybe not so calmly.

Except it really wasn't Khushrenada's fault he'd lost that case. He just had a better attack. He had the benefit of an entire team of attorneys who been relentless in digging up facts that Wufei's client had not revealed to him. It was impossible to come up with a valid defense strategy when you kept getting blindsided by the words "new evidence has come to light."

It wasn't Khushrenada that he hated, it was his very rude awakening to the fact that people lied. To him.

Then he started reviewing all the people he'd defended throughout his very brief career, second guessing each and every one of them. How many criminals had he sent back on the street?

It had been his job to find out all the pertinent information, and instead he'd taken his client's word, believing in the man's innocence up until that last crushing bit of evidence was presented. He could still picture the look on the defendant's face when he'd turned to stare at him. It was one of 'oops, did I forget to mention that?' As if he'd half expected to be convicted in the first place, but wanted to spend the county's tax dollars on a long, drawn out court battle.

He'd never told Meiran why he hadn't been able to continue in that line of work, leaving her to believe that it was Khushrenada dealing him that deathblow. Even knowing that he'd probably saved a few innocents from incarceration did nothing to assuage the doubt and self-loathing he'd felt for being naive enough to believe an accused criminal. 

When had he started keeping things from Meiran? Had they started drifting apart even before then?

He couldn't imagine being where he was now if not for Meiran's anchoring him to the good things in life. She kept him from getting too caught up in the lure of money, or so he'd thought. She was defiantly, stubbornly, loyal, if not to his beliefs, than most certainly to him, as a person, as a man. That she still thought he was worth saving was beyond him.

And he'd made her cry.

He leaned his head into his hands, and wept unabashedly.

~~~~~~~

What had he expected, really?

Heero ran his hand once over his jaw and lower lip as he walked, unsure of where his feet were taking him. Damn, Chang packed a hell of a wallop. He wondered if it was going to discolor. It had been a while since he'd had anyone actually land a punch to his face.

He supposed he'd been asking for it. He felt bad for Meiran Long, for making the insinuation he had. She hadn't played a role in what was going on, and it had been uncalled for. She was an innocent bystander.

Wasn't she?

Heero was beginning to wonder if there were any innocents at all in this game. Relena, perhaps, and he'd like to think Meiran as well.

He refused to feel guilty. He hadn't provoked Wufei. He knew damn well who was responsible for Wufei's finding out what he did for a living. He touched a hand to his hairpiece. What had he been thinking to agree to go to a place like that? At least skulking about darkened street corners, people weren't likely to remember him.

He'd gone out, in broad daylight, in the company of a man who he knew damn well was going to be the center of attention a good portion of the time. Had gone into a situation without knowing exactly what he was getting into, or who might be in attendance.

Had to show off on the target range. Great way to keep a low profile. He might want to hire a skywriter next time.

He had wanted to haul off and belt that smug bastard, Wufei, though, but he'd known from the moment the man appeared at his side that he would be considered in the wrong. The last thing he needed was to have witnesses and police involvement. And really, what provocation had he been given.

He thought back on his conversation with Duo that first night.

'I don't trust anyone.'

'Neither do I.'

Apparently not even himself.

The worst part was that he should have been angry at Wufei because of the slight he'd given Relena, who was undeserving of such a crude comment, but to be honest, his reaction had been because he'd felt downright insulted.

If it bothers you that much, Heero, then why...

He clamped down on that thought. He'd thought he had everything figured out, hadn't he? Give Duo Maxwell a price so exorbitant, he'd be sent on his way, and then he could return to Quatre and Trowa and the bar and the apartment and Hollywood Boulevard and the nameless, faceless johns. Familiar territory.

Duo had called his bluff.

He found that his feet had carried him to a bus stop, and he started laughing, a manic sound that had others staring.

He didn't have as much as a single dime in his pockets.

~~~~~~~

Wufei opened the door with a sense of dread. It had been well over a half an hour, hours past that, in fact, but it had taken him this long to summon the courage to go back and face her. Part of him was afraid she'd be gone when he got there, even though he knew that she'd never do something as cowardly as sneaking off in the night.

She was lying on her side on the couch, her back facing him. It was a subtle statement. Keep away. I refuse to speak to you right now.

Maybe ever.

He sighed and turned to the bedroom. He'd try to talk to her in the morning.

He'd probably still be awake then, anyway.

~~~~~~

Duo had given up on the idea of trying to track down Heero. He wasn't about to go traipsing all over Los Angeles on a whim.

What did he care where Heero was, anyway?

The fact that he'd not lived up to his part of the bargain, that's what. He'd paid Heero half the money up front, and therefore he should at least get half the agreed upon time. He wasn't counting that first night, so by rights, Heero owed him at least another half day. If it had been any other service provider, one with a written contract, he'd have demanded a hell of a lot more than that, insisting that the terms of the contract be carried out or all funds would need to be returned. Breach of contract.

There was nothing left to do but return to the hotel.

He decided that he really, really hated Duke Dermail, and suspected it had little to do with the man's megalomaniacal attitude. The man hadn't changed one bit since they'd last done business with him. He was slowly trying to rebuild his empire, but that attitude wasn't going to serve him well now that he was starting practically from scratch. Money could buy a lot of things, including tolerance, but Dermail didn't yet have the kind of money that would help people forget how much of an asshole he was.

Duo was glad he and Wufei had pulled the rug out from under that man's company a year ago.

Damn glad.

tbc

~~~~~~

Lana - I am trying my utmost to keep writing daily. The story is basically all laid out, I just have to paint it with words, so to speak.

kcgal - I am truly flattered that I've intrigued a 1x2 flag holder! I actually suspected that a few diehard 1x2 fans were avoiding the story, but the attraction of the fic challenge, to me, was Heero in the role of the prostitute. When I considered taking on the challenge, I thought about what reasons Heero might have for being in that position, and then I moved from there to the motivations of all the other characters, even some of the bit players. It actually has made it much more enjoyable to work with, and besides, anyone can take an existing story and just change the names, and I didn't want to create "Pretty Heero" because I couldn't see Heero in that role. Comments like yours are incredibly helpful, as I can tell if I've managed to do what I'd hoped in each chapter or the story as a whole. This is only my second ever GW fic (the first being a horribly rushed piece entered into Sharon's MoR fic-for-a-pic contest - ugh - I still cringe), but I have gotten enough encouragement that I'm doing something right, so perhaps it won't be my last...

Lrigelbbub - thank you. I'm glad you are finding it easy to read. Sometimes I worry that I get a bit too verbose at times.


	14. Regret, Part 2

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The Edulcoration of Duo Maxwell - 14/?

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Note: This fic is a response to Nova Una's challenge to write a Gundam Wing/Pretty Woman fusion fic with Heero in the Julia Roberts role and Duo in the Richard Gere role.

Warnings: AU, yaoi, coarse language, violence, angst, citrusy situations, suggestive dialog, _significant_ (read that as major, MAJOR) deviation from Pretty Woman script, _*reference to religious dogma*_.

Spoilers: None for GW, oodles for Pretty Woman, to an extent.

Disclaimer: I don't really need to be Captain Obvious here, do I? No ownership, no profit, yadda yadda. Written for fun, not profit. 

__

Edulcorate (verb) - To free from harshness (as of attitude); to soften

~~~~~~~

****

Chapter 14 - Regret, Part 2

He was tired of staring at the ceiling. He was tired of waiting. He'd spent far too much time waiting. Things had to be resolved now, and Meiran and he would talk, whether she wanted to or not.

"Meiran," he said softly, approaching the couch. "What's wrong?"

It was a ridiculous question. The simple answer was 'everything,' but he didn't know where else to start.

She turned around, and he could picture the glare she was leveling at him, even in the dark. She sat up and folded her arms across her chest.

"You're not the man I married," she said.

"People change," he offered lamely, wondering if he was trying to start an argument with her.

"No. You're right," she said, confusing him. "You're wrong, but you're right. You are the man I married. But people don't change. Not really, Wufei. Not where it counts the most. It just pains me to see you doing everything you can to deny who you are inside."

He didn't know how to respond to that. People DID change, didn't they? Look at Duo, just this past week.

"Don't even try to use Duo as a counterpoint," she said. Despite the number of years they'd known each other, it still surprised him when she could anticipate what he was going to say. "Duo has nothing to do with this. And if you insist on trying to use him as some body of evidence, then you'd better make sure you have all the facts first. How well do you really know Duo, outside of work?"

He opened his mouth to protest, but the only times he'd associated with Duo, it had been business related. Even their social gatherings had always had something to do with an upcoming deal.

He'd punched Duo in the face the first time he saw him, standing there talking to Meiran, off to one side at some conference or another. He'd reacted to an unknown emotion, a fear, a feeling of possession that he hadn't realized he'd admitted until his knuckles made contact with that smiling mouth.

Wufei hadn't missed the coldness in Duo's eyes as he rubbed his aching jaw. As if he were warning Wufei that if he ever did it again, he'd be sorry.

Meiran had been pissed. She had made it clear that she was no squeamish miss in need of rescuing, and would have stormed off if Duo hadn't suddenly laughed it off as one big joke, making Wufei forget about the dangerous gleam in his eyes. Duo managed to get Meiran to admit that he was irresistible to women, and how could she blame Wufei? She complained that it showed a lack of trust on Wufei's part, but Duo had won the smile he'd been after.

She made a few cutting comments in the car on the way home that night, but as soon as they got home, they were all over each other. Sex that night had been incredible, as if Meiran were suddenly reassured of her place in his life.

He'd done Meiran a great disservice, on many occasions, throughout their marriage, and she had borne under it. He hated to think in cliche terms, but Meiran was probably the closest thing to a soul mate he was likely to find.

He seemed destined to repeat his mistakes. Fitting that the second person he'd punched in some antiquated attempt to protect Meiran's honor had been involved with the first in some way.

The time for talk was past. Action was needed, not words. He walked over to her, bent down, and grabbed one of her arms. He pulled her up over his shoulder, her head and arms dangling down his back, then headed for the bedroom. Their bedroom.

"You are _so_ dead meat, Chang!" she started yelling, but he recognized the passion that lay under the anger. He slapped her ass playfully as she struggled in earnest. Let her fight him. He'd missed their wrestling matches. Maybe she could show him a few more things he'd forgotten.

Like his place in HER life.

~~~~~~~

Duo was surprised to find Heero at the hotel waiting for him.

OK, he admitted to himself. Heero wasn't exactly waiting for him. It was more like he was standing in front of the closet, practically ripping the linen shirt off without unbuttoning it. A few buttons came loose with the effort, but the others resisted, making the shirt hang crookedly off his shoulders.

It might have been funny, given other circumstances.

He knew that Heero was aware that he'd returned, but the man was too busy yanking his own green silk shirt out of the closet. He finally pulled the yellow fabric over his head and threw it on the floor, then shrugged on his own shirt. His hands were on the button of the slacks he was wearing before he finally looked at Duo.

He seemed to reconsider, then snagged the leather pants off their hanger and rudely pushed past Duo, storming out the door and toward the elevator.

Duo took a few calming breaths before following.

Heero was glaring fiercely at the elevator doors, as if that might make it move faster. His fists were clenched around the leather he was holding, and he carried an aura of 'don't fuck with me' that probably could be seen from miles away.

But Duo Maxwell had never backed down from a challenge.

He adopted that placating, slightly condescending tone of voice he used when he was delivering the killing blow during a meeting, the one he used to calmly inform investors that they no longer held a majority of stocks in a company.

The response was immediate.

Heero swung at him.

He probably would have connected, too, if he hadn't dropped the pants first, giving Duo ample warning. Duo hadn't been in a fight like this since his somewhat misspent youth, but it seemed that some things were never forgotten. He barely dodged Heero's fist, then retaliated by tackling Heero, throwing himself at Heero's midsection in an attempt to knock him off balance.

They both landed on the floor and rolled. The elevator doors opened, but neither of them paid any notice. Sprawled on the ground as they were, a few feet from the doors, they were out of the line of sight of the elevator operator. The hotel employee could hear the signs of their struggle but had learned to avoid getting involved in any strange goings on with the penthouse suite. He ignored the sight of the pants that had been dropped in front of the elevator and sighed in relief when the doors slid shut again.

Duo was having a hell of a time pinning Heero. The man wasn't as broad in shoulder or build as he, but he was remarkably strong, and at times, elusive. He threw Duo's body off several times, managing to land a few blows to the torso as they grappled.

He received a few as well, but they only seemed to fuel his anger. Duo had the feeling he was in a fight with an angry wet cat. It was part skill and part luck that he finally managed to pin Heero's legs with his own, entertwining them and holding Heero to the ground with his most of his weight. The rest of his body was supported by his elbows which were on either side of Heero's arms.

This position left them in full body contact, and Duo studied the face beneath him.

The wig was hanging onto Heero's brown locks for dear life. It looked like a large furry spitball had gotten stuck in his hair. Duo took a chance and raised his left arm enough to reach for the dangling hairpiece, pulling it free of the remaining two bobby pins and tossing it aside.

Heero's eyes were flashing angrily. A line from a song flitted through Duo's head. Temptation eyes. That's what Heero had, no matter what color they were.

Heero was a beautiful man, Duo realized. He'd never have considered that an appropriate adjective for anyone with a Y-chromosome, but it was true. The thick, almost bushy eyebrows did nothing to detract from the rest of his face. His lashes were long and thick, and his nose upturned slightly at the end. His nostrils were flaring, giving Duo had the distinct impression that he was lying on a powder keg.

And Heero's lips...

There was a small cut from where his teeth had cut into his lower lip, courtesy of Wufei's punch, but Duo was more focused on the heavy breathing that was coming out of those extremely tempting, extremely kissable lips.

His mind filled with the sudden vision of the two of them doing it right here, having hot, angry sex, in the hall. Pictured the two of them in a tangle of arms and legs, hands roaming everywhere. Felt the swelling in his groin as he leaned forward to capture Heero's lips.

Heero started bucking madly in an effort to get away.

Duo stood up immediately. Strike two, Maxwell.

"Don't touch me," Heero growled at him.

Duo willed his erection down only by means of the anger that swept through him at Heero's tone, because this spitting mad Heero was a hell of a lot sexier than the pliant, submissive one he'd been seeing most of the time.

"I think I've paid enough for the privilege of doing a damn sight more than touching you," he said, proud of the calm, impersonal tone he used.

He thought Heero was going to try to deck him again, but it seemed as though he just deflated. Duo felt a sense of alarm, and he reached over to touch Heero on the shoulder, feeling he had to console Heero in some way, maybe even apologize.

Then he felt Heero's fist connect with his gut.

Taken by surprise, he sank to his knees. He was still doubled over when he heard the elevator doors open again, and the surprised gasp from the operator. Then Heero was gone.

The leather pants were lying on the floor, mocking him.

~~~~~~

Heero glared at the elevator operator as soon as he entered the lift, making the man avert his gaze.

He was going to kill Quatre for starters. He would never have approached that damn Ferrari in the first place, if not for Quatre's 'what do you have to lose?'

He wanted to laugh at the bitter irony of it all.

He'd managed to scrape up enough change by picking up coins that had been littered on the ground. Then he'd gotten on the next bus, glad that no one else had found the money first.

Until he realized which bus he'd boarded. If he had any other options, he would have gotten right back off the bus.

Although, to be honest with himself, something he seemed to be having a lot of trouble with lately, he had plenty of other options, none of which involved setting foot anywhere near the Regent Beverly Wilshire Hotel.

Once, before he'd taken his current path, and when the lure of alcohol was still dangerously attractive, he'd sat with Trowa and Quatre in The Bar after closing. The Bar was generally accepted as the de facto name of the establishment that Trowa either ran or owned, Heero wasn't quite sure which. Trowa had explained that there had been a contest quite some time ago to name 'the bar.' The entries had ranged from hilarious to pretentious to downright offensive, and at some point it had become a pub ritual, to see who could come up with the most outlandish suggestion every week. Eventually its namelessness became its generally accepted identity, despite Quatre's teasing attempts to get Trowa to change it at least once or twice a month. But as Trowa had pointed out at one time, "and put an end to a long standing tradition?" Then other 'traditions' had been bandied about, including bar fights and bodies thrown through plate glass windows.

So he'd sat with the two of them that night, nursing his beer and staring into its depths, trying to find the solace it promised, but afraid to take that first step, that first sip. He hadn't yet approached his first john, and he was in a state of there-but-not-really-there as Trowa and Quatre debated, of all things, religion. Mainly the effects of religious beliefs on things like blue laws.

Somehow the differences and similarities between basic dogma of various faiths came into the conversation

Quatre had compared _'Elohim' _to the Holy Trinity of Catholicism. He'd commented that the Hebrew word for God, or Allah, ended in 'm' which, if he remembered correctly, indicated a plural form of the noun. Heero remembered pondering, at the time, the plurality of a higher power; how much of it was symbolic and how much was a literal translation.

He'd never really believed in an omnipotent being, finding that the only thing he could believe in was himself and his ideals. How very naive he'd been back then. It seemed a lifetime ago. Someone else's lifetime ago.

Duo's name indicated duality. The man was hot and cold, honest and cunning by turns. What was in a name? In Duo's case, everything and then some. He still couldn't believe he'd given his own name to Duo that first night. He could have given any name, made one up as he did for those johns who felt the need to address him by something other than 'bitch.' It seemed that someone else had been doing all the thinking for him ever since he leaned in the window of that Enzo.

Heero wasn't a religious man, but he felt sure of one thing.

He'd looked the devil in the eye, and the devil's name was Duo Maxwell.

~~~~~~

The girl behind the reception desk answered the courtesy phone, and her face brightened immediately.

"Yes, he's here, please hold."

She opened her mouth to yell across the lobby, then remembered the reprimand she'd received the last time she'd been so crass, and quietly approached the manager of guest relations.

"Howard," she said meekly. "There is a guest requesting to speak to you on line two."

He nodded in approval, then went to the phone in his office to take the call.

~~~~~~

Heero was ready to commit bloody murder with his bare hands. Could any more people possibly need to use the elevator right now? He didn't think it possible that anyone needed to leave this hotel more than he. His angry scowl went largely unnoticed, as people boarded the elevator still speaking on cell phones or to each other.

By the time the elevator doors opened to the lobby, Heero was almost surprised to see traces of daylight still beyond the glass doors leading to Wilshire Boulevard. It had seemed that so much more time had passed.

And just when he could nearly taste the freedom of the outdoors, he saw the calm easy smile of the hotel manager as he approached. Heero wanted to howl in frustration.

So damn close...

But had he really thought Duo was going to take that sucker punch lying down?

Apparently he had.

Part of him wanted to rebel, wanted to slip past Howard, knew he could. Why would Duo continue pursuing him once he'd reached the outside? Would he file charges of assault? He couldn't see Duo wanting to explain their association to the authorities. What would it accomplish? Duo did nothing that didn't benefit himself in some way.

He'd already called Duo's bluff once before. Did he dare do it again?

He did. He was close to the point of no longer caring, having skated close to the edge so much in the past few days.

Bring it on, Duo Maxwell.

~~~~~~~

He should have his head examined.

He could have neatly avoided Howard, along with any hotel security that might be dragged into what had to be coming known as daily entertainment for the staff of the Regent Beverly.

Perhaps that was a slight exaggeration.

He had decided the hell with Duo's twisted little game of power, had wanted to see what lengths Duo would go to in order to win, once he physically left the hotel, once he gave into the beckoning liberty that lay beyond those doors.

Curiosity killed the cat, hadn't it?

He gave up trying to rationalize his reasons. He wasn't sure he'd like what he found if the answers existed.

Because here he was, sitting on the loveseat in Duo's luxury suite, staring at the wall hard enough to make it combust.

He was beginning to think the loveseat had a siren song of its own, not quite ready to admit that the silent call he'd responded to came from Duo.

Duo was honestly stunned when Howard had called him from the lobby to tell him that his guest was on his way up. He hadn't really believed it until the door to the suite opened and Heero was standing there, looking just as angry, but with a touch of resignation.

Heero had practically marched into the room, thrown himself into the loveseat, and proceeded to stare a hole into the wallpaper.

He didn't know how long they sat there. Two minutes? Two hours? He felt the room only needed the ticking of a grandfather clock to complete the picture.

"I'm sorry."

Heero's eyes snapped up to his, pupils narrowing. Duo sighed.

"Look, I know I've fucked up. I'm not going to beg your forgiveness. But..." he took a calming breath. "Neither am I going to beg you to stay."

The last thing Heero expected from Duo was begging, but he was taken by surprise nonetheless.

Damn it, he didn't want to be intrigued, but it was far too late for that. If it weren't, he would never have come back up to Duo's room.

Duo moved from his armchair, slowly approaching the loveseat. He lowered himself to the empty cushion, turning his body to face Heero.

He reached out a hand and brushed the disheveled bangs from Heero's forehead, running his fingertips over the lobe of Heero's ear as he retracted his hand.

"Heero," he said, his voice low and husky. "Heero, let me make it good for you."

Heero didn't know how to respond to that.

How many sides were there to Duo Maxwell? With horror, he realized his face had turned toward Duo's hand so that Duo was cupping the side of his face. He didn't want it to feel good. He didn't want this feeling of warmth. That wasn't why he was doing it.

'Let me make it good for you.'

Wasn't that HIS job? He was the one who was paid to make Duo 'feel good.'

Of course, there had been men who'd insisted on seeing Heero respond to their clumsy attempts, on a physical level at least, just to feel like they were lovers extraordinaire, but none had touched him with such gentleness.

It was another game. Duo was changing tactics again. Hadn't he mentioned that flexibility was a key strategy?

His defenses had been slowly crumbling, and he wasn't sure he'd be able to build them back up fast enough. This time when Duo leaned forward, he had a moment of panic. Then Duo's cheek grazed his own, and Duo's breath was in his ear.

"Let me."

To which Heero replied firmly, steadily, "I don't do _seme_."

Duo sat back, surprised to hear a response from Heero.

"Excuse me?"

"I don't do _seme_," Heero repeated, feeling a little more in control of the situation now that Duo had moved out of his personal space.

Duo wracked his brain for the meaning of that word. Attack, offense?

"_Uke_ only," Heero continued.

__

Uke. Receiving. Ah. Message received, Heero, no pun intended.

He hadn't expected it to be any other way, but found it interesting that Heero felt the need to state that up front.

He stood, then reached a hand to Heero, who looked at it for a moment, then allowed Duo to help him to his feet.

The two of them headed for the bedroom.

tbc

~~~~~~~

Heh. Well, I had to stop there, otherwise I'd have had to attach the lemon warning to THIS chapter, and then where would the surprise have been? I will need to do some significant editing prior to posting on ff.net, so bear with me as I attempt to censor Chapter 15 sufficiently for an R-rating.

OK. Yes, _Elohim_ is the Hebrew word for God. There are schools of thought regarding the interpretation of the "m" suffix, ranging from "One True God of the people" to polytheism (although the latter is less common and stems from the more linguistically minded folks rather than a core belief of Judaism). I'm sure I'm oversimplifying the explanation, so please forgive me my ignorance!

__

Blue laws refer to the laws dating back to the Puritans. Think of states where working on Sunday was still forbidden, and the laws governing sale of alcohol on Sundays. Back in the seventeenth century, 'immoral behavior' was frowned upon severely, including not observing the Sabbath as well as drinking, and engaging in the playing of games (dice, cards, etc.) in public. Remember the Prohibition? Yeah, me neither. I'm not quite that old.

My thanks are extended to Kagemihari, for incredibly extensive feedback on the meaning and derivation of the proper noun _Elohim_! I bow to your superior knowledge, Kagi!

holly - thanks for your in depth commentary on Duo's character. It has been a very tricky thing, trying to keep him from straying terribly out of character.

Lana - I am glad you're finding it intriguing. I hope I am able to make things "click" for everyone in the end without muddying the waters too much along the way!

Grevola - your review is thoughtful and insightful, and therefore appreciated. I don't want to give anything away, of course, but I do hope that you find things less murky overall as the story progresses. I am trying to find that delicate balance between too many and not enough flashbacks, so let us hope that they are more intriguing than confusing when used.


	15. Motivation

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The Edulcoration of Duo Maxwell - 15/?

Warnings: See previous chapters. This chapter contains lime/nonexplicit sex.

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Edulcorate (verb) - To free from harshness (as of attitude); to soften

* * *

****

Chapter 15 - Motivation

Duo had told him just the previous night that he didn't need to go through all the trouble of a long drawn out seduction in order to obtain bed partners.

To Heero, that seemed a waste of talent.

Duo may have thought that he attracted admirers due to his fortune, and Heero wasn't naive to believe that wasn't somewhat true. However, he was willing to bet that wasn't the only reason people were drawn to him.

The man's sensuality was overwhelming. He could have almost anyone he wanted. His voice alone was seductive as hell.

So many thoughts were going through Heero's head. Was Duo really going to make it 'good'? Whose definition of good? He'd said 'let me make it good for you.' For him. Not Duo.

Heero was afraid of giving in to this, but also a little afraid not to.

He thought he could survive it as long as he was able to maintain some control over the situation. This time he was going in armed with the knowledge that Duo wasn't after a wham-bam-thank-you-man.

Normally he welcomed the pain that was a byproduct of his current profession. Actually, that wasn't exactly true. He welcomed the feeling of punishment a quick fuck brought, but the pain itself wasn't the point. It was the feeling of being taken, being pounded into submission, being treated like nothing.

Except that in all those cases, all those jobs, he'd always been the one calling the shots, despite taking the superficially submissive role. And he hated the way it made him feel afterwards.

Pretty much defeated the purpose, then, didn't it?

* * *

Duo didn't believe in making idle promises. There was no need to. He was also no stranger to bluffing and misdirection.

This fell somewhere in the middle, as he intended to carry through on the implied promise to Heero, but with no idea how to make good on it.

It was a golden rule of business to never let fear or doubt rear their ugly heads during negotiations, and this was, for all that he _did_ want to be physically intimate with Heero, still really just business. He'd told Heero that he wanted to explore 'being gay,' after all, and he was pretty sure that didn't mean forcing one's self into another as he had done to Heero two nights ago, even though Heero had instigated it.

He had to get around Heero's need to be the dominant party. Give him just enough slack in the reins. 'Give him his head,' part of him wanted to giggle hysterically, and he managed to tamp down the flicker of inappropriate humor by meeting Heero's steady gaze with his own.

Heero looked away first, and Duo wondered if it was because he'd felt somewhat intimidated or because he knew Duo expected it.

It didn't really matter, but he suspected he knew the answer to that.

He approached Heero as he would a wild animal, hoping he wasn't going to make any false or sudden moves to put a screeching halt to the tiny bit of progress he'd made.

"What did you tell Howard?"

Duo was surprised that Heero chose that moment to ask, but he wasn't shocked by the question. He hadn't been sure how Heero would react when he'd called down to ask Howard to run interference for him, and, much to his consternation, had been awash with relief when Howard had reported that Heero was on his way back up.

He gave one of his patented chuckles, one that offered a hint of mild amusement but no real mirth.

"I didn't tell him that you'd assaulted me, if that's what you're worried about. Don't worry, Heero, I only asked him if he'd mind catching you before you left because you'd forgotten something."

Yeah, like brushing his hair. Heero knew he'd looked a sight when he'd exited the elevator, with his hair matted in some places and sticking up in others. He hadn't intended on removing the wig at all before he'd left, but Duo had thrown a wrench into that plan as well.

Heero suspected that was all the answer he'd get out of Duo, but he found himself relieved. Now that his anger had dissipated in the wake of Duo's soft, cajoling demeanor, he had to admit that clocking the hotel manager would have forced other confrontations, and those in turn would hasten his owning up to some of the things that had been plaguing his mind lately.

"I'd like to undress you," Duo stated, moving to unbutton the few that Heero had refastened in the elevator. His fingers slid down the placket as each button was released from confinement. The silk whispered against Heero's skin as Duo pushed the shirt off his shoulders. It slid to the ground and was promptly forgotten.

Heero's nipples were erect, and Duo was struck with the desire to determine if they were as sensitive as his own, but he had a plan and he had to stick with it. Yielding to any impulsive desires now could set him back, and he had already wasted enough time. There would be time for that exploration later. He'd told Heero he wouldn't beg, but what he wanted wouldn't require it. If there were any pleading involved, it would come from Heero.

The thought brought a flush to his skin, and he wondered if that was really all that far out of the realm of possibility.

His fingers were mapping out a route along Heero's chest and stomach before running along the waistband of his pants. This would be no repeat of Monday night's fiasco.

He slid the heel of his hand up and moved the zipper down with his thumb, managing to keep his fingers in contact with Heero's groin all the while. It amused him greatly that Heero continued to eschew wearing any undergarments, even in the tailored pants.

It was an incredible turn-on thinking that he'd been one layer closer to Heero's body than he'd thought while he'd had him pinned to the floor earlier.

Heero's arms were tensing, and Duo suspected it was only a supreme will of effort that kept those hands from clenching into fists. Obviously Heero needed something to keep those hands busy.

"Undress me." Heero's hands came up, but just as they touched the top button of his shirt, Duo added, "slowly."

Heero's nerves were steady. He could do this. He was good at following instructions. Usually. It wasn't the first time he'd been asked to do this.

It was the first time, however, that he thought he might actually want to.

Which made him suddenly, acutely aware of something he hadn't ever considered before. Something utterly ironic, considering one of the alleged reasons Duo had given for 'hiring' him.

"It's different," Duo admitted, as Heero's fingers brushed against his bare skin briefly as each button was unfastened. "Your hands are callused. They're not a woman's hands."

Heero felt Duo's hand slip from his crotch, and took the opportunity to kneel in front of Duo. He had the pants unfastened as well and dropping to Duo's ankles.

"It _is_ different, isn't it?" Duo's voice was a near whisper. "Because you know what feels good."

Did he? Heero hadn't considered it that way before. He supposed, in a clinical sense, he did, unless he counted a few brief encounters he'd had in what seemed like someone else's memory.

Duo lifted one foot, then the other, stepping out of his pants and sending them behind him with a gentle kick. Brief pressure of his hands on Heero's shoulders was all the communication he gave, but the pleased look on his face when Heero stood again indicated that the message had been correctly interpreted.

"Please remove the rest of your clothes and join me on the bed."

Duo removed his socks and underwear while Heero did as he was bidden. He watched the way Heero's spine curved as he bent over to unfasten his boots and reveled in the almost excruciatingly slow manner in which Heero finished undressing.

He was sitting in bed, his body leaning on several pillows, marveling once again at the graceful manner in which Heero moved, no matter what he was doing.

He had to admit; it had been there during their fight as well. He would be hard pressed to explain the way Heero's body fell into an innate rhythm as he attempted to elude Duo.

With the exception of that moment when Duo had tried to kiss him, Heero really had seemed to follow some elaborately choreographed routine. It would not particularly surprise him if he were to discover that Heero had been some sort of exotic dancer in the past, although the chances of that being true were rather slim. Perhaps it was something that some of Heero's clients liked to see, then? That didn't seem to sit right, either. Maybe Heero was just inherently lissome, and Duo was putting his own spin on things.

Heero approached the bed, suddenly unsure. Duo patted the mattress next to him, and Heero crawled up on the bed.

"The other night you told me to 'prep' you." Heero nodded stiffly, still on his hands and knees, his head turned to the side to face Duo.

"You didn't merely tell me to lube myself, which is all I did." He didn't like bringing up that night, but it was best to get that out on the table as well. "Explain to me this prepping business."

Duo stared, slack-jawed, as Heero launched into a rather dry recital of the reasons behind adequately stretching and lubricating one's partner. He could have been giving a speech on economic conditions in Africa for all the emotion in his voice. There was absolutely no facial expression as the words dropped from his lips.

It was disconcerting that hearing something explained in such a clinical manner was arousing as hell to Duo. Maybe it was because Hilde had been right and he was now entertaining images that he would not have a week ago. Or maybe it was because it was Heero doing the talking.

He did manage to get the gist of what Heero was saying, ignoring all the technical terms and extraneous information to focus on the 'meat' of the lecture.

And when he prepped Heero, he most certainly did not want this cold automaton in bed with him.

Heero finished his explanation, not as much as a flicker of interest or curiosity on his face.

"Paraphernalia in the nightstand?"

Heero nodded.

"I would appreciate it very much if you would not put on an act with me while I'm 'prepping' you," Duo said. "You are still in my employ as of right now, correct?"

Another nod, this one hesitant.

"And as such, I am paying you to see to my own pleasure, yes?" Once again he wanted to trample his own wayward tongue. He had really wanted to avoid any mention of their true relationship, but perhaps it was best to keep things on a level that seemed to keep Heero at ease. Words were not in the arsenal he planned to use to upset the delicate balance that Heero was determined to maintain.

"Do not react in any manner other than what comes naturally," he said. "I cannot obtain the necessary feedback if you do so. Remember, you're my guinea pig."

Yes, Heero reminded himself. It was much more tolerable to think of himself in that way. It would make what he suspected might be coming next easier to deal with.

Duo retrieved the necessary items and laid them on the bed next to him, coming up on his knees behind Heero and reaching both hands to lightly grasp Heero's hips. His thumbs made small circles on the skin just above Heero's pelvic bone, then he leaned forward and slid his hands up Heero's sides, pulling Heero's body upright slightly so that Heero's back was brushing against the light scattering of hair on Duo's chest. Goosebumps appeared on his flesh and he bit down on a sudden intake of air when Duo leaned back slightly, pulling Heero's body flush against him. His hands were on Heero's chest, not moving, just touching. It took every ounce of Heero's willpower to avoid giving into the temptation to lean his head back and offer his neck.

Duo was aware of an internal struggle going on from the tension radiating from Heero's body. He relented, moving his hands back to Heero's hips. As Heero leaned forward again and resumed his original position, Duo gave in to the impulse to plant a wet kiss at the base of Heero's spine. That earned him a slight hissing sound.

"Rest your weight on your elbows," Duo said softly, pleased when Heero complied immediately. His upper body was pressed onto the pillows Duo had been lying on earlier, making his ass look like an offering.

Duo splayed the fingers of his left hand on the small of Heero's back and then fumbled for the lube with his free hand. He was entranced by the way Heero's body was beckoning him. He wanted to tease it all night, but there were other things he wanted more.

He used half a tube of lubrication before remembering the condom. With a mild curse, he tore open the packet and rolled it on as quickly as he could, then reapplied the gel before positioning himself behind Heero. It was just like the other night, and yet nothing like it.

Heero made a sound, and at first Duo was concerned that he might be hurting him before he realized that the strangled moan was one of pleasure.

Duo had always gotten off a bit on making his partner feel good. He'd enjoyed bringing Hilde to orgasm just as much as when she'd returned the favor. It was a heady feeling, to be responsible for making someone weak in the knees from pleasure alone.

Knowing Heero was enjoying this, albeit reluctantly, shredded the last of his already tenuous control, and he collapsed onto Heero as he came.

* * *

Heero stared at the stained sheets. Duo's weight was heavy on his back, but all he could do was focus on the evidence before him.

Duo had made him orgasm.

Part of Heero wanted to cry. It wasn't supposed to be like this! Quatre had really never explained what to do in a case like this. He supposed that there was only so much he'd really been comfortable asking. Or not asking, as the case may have been. Quatre had a knack for knowing which questions Heero dared not utter, and had covered them all, or so he'd thought at the time.

He'd been very matter-of-fact when he'd explained the mechanics of anal sex to Heero, and the rest Heero had obtained using a computer at a web cafe.

His face flamed as he remembered Quatre's final lesson.

And for the first time, found himself actually wondering what sort of circumstances had driven Quatre Raberba to prostitution.

* * *

Trowa shoved the drawer to the register closed and handed the change to one of the bar patrons, giving the man a farewell nod of his head.

Wednesdays were always rather slow, so the poker game was being held downstairs tonight. Quatre was winning, and had amassed quite a pile of coins and dollar bills of various denominations in front of him.

He glanced at the security mirrors, insuring nothing untoward was happening at the moment out of his direct line of sight. Although it was unlikely that he'd miss any shenanigans with the bar as dead as it was, it was an ingrained habit of his, to not assume anything. He'd managed to avoid any reports of either a 390 or a 415, and he tried his best to subtly curb the drinking of any patrons he suspected might be driving in order to avoid culpability for a 502 as well.

As his eyes flicked to the mirror behind Quatre, he started. He could see Quatre's hand. A glance to the rest of the players reassured him that they were not at an angle where the mirror would help them. He looked back in the mirror to compare the cards in Quatre's hand to the expression on his face. He was grinning at the others widely. When it was his turn, he discarded two cards.

Trowa was sure he'd been mistaken. Another glance at the remaining cards Quatre held showed that his eyes hadn't deceived him.

But why would Quatre discard a pair of aces?

tbc

* * *

Regarding Trowa's attempts to avoid trouble...If my source is correct, among the various codes that the LAPD uses, are these three: 390 (intoxicated person), 415 (disturbance), and 502 (driving under the influence). Other than that, I really am not familiar with Los Angeles ordinances, and honestly, this time I was too lazy to research whether or not California holds bars liable for serving obviously intoxicated patrons.

* * *

holly - as always, thanks for your review. Yes, I guess it is a bit twisted! As for Duo, well, there IS the title of this fic, right?

chibi-chan - I'm flattered that yet another person has found this fic through a recommendation! Thanks for taking the time to post a review and let me know you're enjoying it. Yes, I do alternate uses of "common phrases" with more dignified terms for parts of the body. The challenge of writing a lemony or limish scene! Personally, I think the cruder words suggest a lot more than more clinical terminology, but everyone is different.

Nikkler - I remember when I'd find a fic and sit there catching up on all the previous chapters, then salivate until an update came along! I'm working as fast as I can and trying not to sacrifice quality along the way! I'm honored that you feel "sucked in" by it and hope I can maintain your interest as the story progresses.

Curious Dream Weaver - your review just about made my day today! I was overjoyed to read it! I am so pleased that you find the writing style more than adequate. I try to visualize the scene in my head and then write what I see, hoping for the best when I'm done. I think I've been more successful at keeping their characters consistent because I'm trying not to let too much time lapse between updates, which keeps them fresh in my mind. I could go on and on, but I truly appreciate your feedback, not just because I'm tickled pink, but because you included the specific things that you enjoyed.


	16. Aftermath, Part 1

****

The Edulcoration of Duo Maxwell - 16/?

~~~~~~~

Note: This fic was written in response to Nova Una's challenge to the 1x2ML to write a Gundam Wing/Pretty Woman fusion fic with Heero in the Julia Roberts role and Duo in the Richard Gere role.

Warnings: AU, yaoi, coarse language, violence, angst, citrusy situations, suggestive dialog, _significant_ (read that as major, MAJOR) deviation from Pretty Woman script as I see fit. Gratuitous insertion of red herrings throughout.

Spoilers: None for GW, quite a bit for Pretty Woman.

Disclaimer: I don't really need to be Captain Obvious here, do I? No ownership, no money being made, yadda yadda. Written for fun, not profit.

__

Edulcorate (verb) - To free from harshness (as of attitude); to soften

~~~~~~~

****

Chapter 16 - Aftermath, Part 1

Heero wriggled his way out from under Duo's collapsed body, his mind at war with his body.

Had it been good for him?

His earlier question came back to haunt him. 'Whose definition of good?'

He'd known that Duo was all about power, and control, and probably a host of other less than flattering traits, if he took the time to look for them.

Had it been good for him?

Physically, he couldn't deny it. The proof had been right there on the sheets. Duo had started off with that damned seductive voice. The smugness crept in when he'd reminded Heero of their employment arrangement, and he'd been horrified at how easily he'd acquiesced.

Then Duo had started to...to worship his body. It brought back sharp memories of the night he'd been left sitting on the loveseat, dumbfounded. Duo had amazing hands. Gentle, confident, thorough.

It was obvious Duo had no idea what he was doing from the questions he was asking, unless he was playing a more complicated game than Heero thought.

But he really did know where to touch Heero's body. The feather light touches on his abdomen, the moist caress of Duo's lips against the base of his spine, they all were carefully laid stepping-stones in Duo's so-called seduction lessons.

They were men. Physiologically, they really didn't require as much foreplay to enjoy sex as women did. The intensity of one's orgasm depended on the individual's receptiveness to various stimuli. Physical, visual, auditory...

Emotional.

Heero ran a hand through his hair.

Was that what Duo had wanted to show him? That he could get Heero off? Did he know, or at least suspect, that Heero worked very hard at keeping his mind dissociated from his body during the act? That he never allowed a john the satisfaction of mutual orgasm? That it went against the reasons he was doing it, if he gave in to the pleasure, even when it was obtained reluctantly?

Again, if he was so determined to keep a tight rein on his body's reactions, why was he even doing it in the first place?

It had been an accident, really, an odd combination of circumstances, and Heero didn't have the energy to explore that thought at the moment.

~~~~~~

Trowa was locking up for the night, and Quatre was grumbling about how he'd lost to Otto. Again.

Suddenly he became very quiet.

"Quatre?"

When he received no response, he touched his friend on the shoulder. "Quatre?"

The blond turned and beamed at him, causing Trowa to frown.

"Are you alright, Quatre?"

"Never better," was the overly cheerful reply.

"Did you..." how did he phrase this? "...see something?"

Quatre frowned darkly. He hated when anyone made light of the knack he had for just knowing things.

"It's not like I have visions, you know. Don't treat me like some kind of charlatan," he snarled.

Trowa was taken aback, and decided that perhaps he'd said enough for one night.

The two of them parted ways outside the bar. Trowa spared one last look at Quatre's hunched over figure, the blond's hands thrust in his pockets as he stalked in the opposite direction, and sighed.

~~~~~~

Heero was out on the balcony again, looking out at the cityscape but not registering the sight.

He felt cold. It was a balmy night, and he was shivering.

He hoped he wasn't coming down with a cold.

Then he hoped he was.

__

//"'Niisan, you're such a geek."

He lifted his gaze from his laptop to face her and very calmly stated, "and proud of it" before resuming his typing.

"AARGH! Does nothing ever upset you?"

That gave him pause. "What do you mean?" he asked, slowly and carefully. He saved his homework assignment and turned off the computer. Once he'd closed it, he looked up at her from his position under the tree in his backyard.

"I mean...it's like nothing ever fazes you! I could tell you that the earth was spinning out of its rotation and you'd just nod and say you already knew that, but thanks for the info." She was pacing back and forth in front of the tree.

"I'd also be impressed that you'd noticed."

She came closer and kicked one of his outstretched legs. "You're so lucky I love you."

He nodded, and she resumed her pacing.

"What was it like in Japan?" she asked.

She obviously hadn't outgrown her leaps from one subject to another.

"Why do you ask?"

"I thought it was a 'chick thing' to answer a question with a question," she teased lightly. "I dunno, I guess I just want to know."

"Why?"

She kicked him again.

"I'm filing a domestic abuse complaint," he said, then ducked when she threw her shoe at him. "I'm not picking that up for you," he added. The other shoe nearly hit him that time.

She stood there with her hands on her hips, fuming.

He stood up then and imitated her stance, and was pleased to see the smile tugging at the corners of her lips. She threw her hands in the air in frustration, then walked over to him and wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her head on his chest.

"Hmmm," she said, listening to the gentle thuds. "No, you're not heartless as I suspected."

"You wound me," he said. His deep voice sent tremors through her ear and she looked up at him.

"You know I would never, don't you, 'Niisan?"

"I know."

She rested her cheek back on his chest and he began stroking her hair.

"I really missed you, 'Niisan. I really thought you weren't coming back this time."

"I wrote to you," he reminded her.

"Not the same," she said, her voice hitching slightly. "It's not the same when you're not physically HERE."

He sighed. He'd been back for nearly a year now, but his absence still seemed fresh in her mind. They'd had this conversation many times throughout the school year, as if she hadn't trusted that he was really going to school only thirty miles away and not seven thousand.

It hadn't been his choice to go to school in Osaka. His mother had been asked to accept a temporary assignment in Kyoto, but she'd been hesitant about interfering with his education. Then a recent news report on the declining standards of education in the United States had set her off. It hadn't helped that she was, as she phrased it, going 'all that way to learn what an American taught them in the first place' after the Second World War. She'd cursed her grandfather's generation in two languages when they'd asked her to go. 

When they broke the news to their son, she'd looked at him intently and made it very clear that he WOULD reap the full benefit of the overseas education or there would be hell to pay.

It had been a major concession for her. As much as she adored her husband's birthplace, she had little tolerance for some of the cultural differences such as the use of honorifics and the general attitude some companies held toward women, particularly working mothers, in the business world. She had a chip on her shoulder that was born from her American upbringing, and only her devotion to her spouse kept her from making her opinions known in rather vulgar terms at times.

Fortunately his grandfather was bucking tradition and adhering to some of the more outdated customs less than was common. It could have had something to do with his admiration for some of the younger staff members employed by the family business as well as respect for his own wife, who ran their family like a military operation.

The company was technically his birthright, but neither parent wanted him to rest on his laurels. He hadn't wanted that, either.

He hadn't lacked for anything while they were living in Japan. Academically, he'd surpassed even his parents' expectations, so much so that he was two years ahead of his classmates when they finally returned stateside, although that only emphasized his mother's already lackluster opinion of American public and private education. He'd obtained his high school diploma shortly after, concurrently engaging in independent study while enrolled in a few community college courses.

Through his musing, he realized he was still stroking her hair, and her face was nuzzled against him.

Well, maybe there had been ONE thing he'd been lacking while he'd been gone.//

~~~~~~~

Heero shivered again. Maybe he was destined to always lack some vital piece that connected him to life.

Bullshit. 'Destiny' was an excuse used by people who refused to take responsibility for their actions.

His eyes traveled to the constellations. Interesting how sailors once relied on these very same stars for navigation, the tiny pinpoints of light the only thing providing them an anchor and sense of direction in what must have seemed to be an ocean of infinite size.

How frightening it must have been on overcast nights, when their only link to the world beyond the expanse of water was hidden from view.

~~~~~~~~

__

//"I'm here now," he murmured into her hair.

"You're only going to leave again," she complained, her lips moving against his shirt.

He couldn't say for sure one way or another, so the best he could offer was to repeat, "I'm here now."

She pulled away and looked at him.

"Yeah." They stared at each other for several moments.

Years separated them, and at times he felt like a lecherous old man, even though he was only seventeen to her nearly twelve. At other times he had to remind himself she wasn't even in her teens yet.

In the time he'd been gone, two more boys, twins, had joined her family. He hadn't been there for that. He was amazed at her pragmatism. She understood that her newest siblings would be the center of her parents' universe for a while, and patiently abided by the stringent rules they had placed on her, rules that her elder brothers had never had to follow.

Maybe not 'patiently,' he amended, but she had seemed to accept it as something she couldn't change, merely because she was a girl and therefore viewed as someone to protect.

That he could understand, but it had nothing to do with the fact that she was a girl.

"You'll go back eventually," she said.

"Think so?"

"Know so."

They were quiet for a moment.

"I can't believe you tried to hit me with your shoe."

"Almost did," she bragged.

They shared a light chuckle, trying to shift the mood to something light and upbeat. Something in their Now, rather than their past or future.

"Soooo, Niisaaaaan..." that tone of voice was always trouble. He didn't have to prompt her, knowing the punch line was coming.

"Was it good for you, too?"//

~~~~~~

God, Heero thought. She'd always seemed so much older than her years, and yet she always managed to make him feel younger, even playful. His current thoughts were jumbled, random. It was like trying to force a caged animal back into its prison, once the door had been left unlocked and it nudged its way out.

By the time she turned thirteen, he was already starting his junior year of college. He'd opted to enroll at Gibbs at the ripe old age of sixteen, but once he was old enough to legally make his own decisions, he'd transferred to Mt. Sierra. His parents had frowned at both choices, but he wasn't interested in attending an Ivy League school.

He'd thought of pointedly reminding his mother how sadly lacking American education was, and how it would just be a waste of money to pursue a degree on the assumption that more money equaled a better education, but he feared that he'd be sent to Tokyo University for his cheek if he did that. His father had expected him to pursue a degree in law, but he'd feared that he'd only be sucked into the business in Osaka and never get out if he did that.

His mother seemed more accepting of his choices than his father, who still seemed torn between familial obligations overseas and those right there in Berkeley Heights.

Would he have blithely gone along with his family's wishes for his future, never giving a thought to what he wanted, if not for the girl that had become his surrogate sister? He smiled, a small, sad smile, as he thought of that day she'd thrown her shoes at him. After that, it became part and parcel of who she was, as well as a representation of their relationship. She never acted like that around her own flesh and blood, but then, the same was true for him.

She'd picked up a rather crude sense of humor from her brothers, who didn't always remember to curb their tongues around their only sister. It horrified him that she probably knew far more about the mechanics of male-female relations back then than he did when he was twice that age. He hoped fervently that he was worrying needlessly about her precociousness, then remembered that it didn't matter anymore.

'Was it good for you, too?'

Was it?

The demanding voice in his head now sounded suspiciously like the one he'd heard just hours before. It should have been a simple question, but there was no easy answer for it.

Was it good for YOU, Duo?

Did he even care?

He looked at the sky again, then turned and walked to the loveseat. The loveseat that was fast becoming a shrine to his lack of adherence to his principles.

He winced. What principles? He had to stop thinking about her. Every time he did so, he was filled with melancholy. Regret. Doubt. Shame.

He should just sleep on the damned loveseat, seeing as it had been the site of so many signs of weakness these past few days.

No. What he SHOULD do is just leave. This time no one would stop him. He walked over to the blond wig that was still hanging off the back of one of the chairs and picked it up. His fingers unconsciously stroked the platinum colored strands as he debated his next move.

~~~~~~~~

Duo woke feeling ridiculously pleased with himself. He turned his head toward Heero and frowned.

Heero was facing away from him, his body curled into itself so his rumpled brown hair was barely visible over his hunched shoulders. A spare sheet he must have obtained from the linen drawer was wrapped around his body. It didn't seem as if it would be possible to increase the space that lie between them.

For some reason it bothered him slightly.

He shrugged off the unfamiliar feelings that Heero's body language was causing and swung his legs off the bed. He stood and stretched, then gave in to the temptation to glance at Heero one more time before heading into the bathroom.

He didn't want to think too much about why he felt he needed to jerk himself off while he showered.

tbc

~~~~~~

Regarding the issue of quality methods in Japan vs. the United States:

A mathematical physicist by the name of W. Edwards Deming (1900-1993) was indeed sent by the US to Japan, in 1946 and again in 1948, to assess agricultural production and other problems in the aftermath of WWII.

He was invited back to Japan circa 1950 to teach several courses in statistical methods and served as an advisor and consultant for Japanese industry.

He is sometimes described in rather lofty terms, such as the father of the Japanese post-war industrial revival, and is sometimes viewed as a bit of a Japanese folk hero, although I'm not sure whose viewpoint that refers to.

On the other hand, the US abandoned Deming's methods after the war and has taken much longer to pay attention to the heart of his teachings.

Fast forward thirty years to a little television special called "If Japan Can, Why Can't We?" and you get the gist of what happened. Japan stuck with the methods Deming has introduced, embraced them, in fact, and made them part of the industrial culture. The US, on the other hand, who was responsible for sending Deming to assist Japan after the war, didn't see the long-range benefits at the time, and later looked to the Japanese for the secret to their successfully changing the world's perception of their export products after the war.

I found the irony pretty funny when I was a graduate statistics student.

As for the role of women in Japanese society, I only know that it isn't as bad as the Western world often perceives it, and that the woman rules the roost in the home because men are simply not there due to their jobs. I don't know how it is today, but I know that it was often frowned upon for a mother to join the workforce because that meant she was neglecting the responsibilities of the home. I could go into more detail on this, but my info is outdated, and everything could be rebutted, I'm sure, by someone who knows what the hell they are talking about.

PHEW! I think the footnotes are longer than the entire chapter!


	17. Aftermath, Part 2

****

The Edulcoration of Duo Maxwell - 17/?

~~~~~~~

Note: This fic was written in response to Nova Una's challenge to the 1x2ML to write a Gundam Wing/Pretty Woman fusion fic with Heero in the Julia Roberts role and Duo in the Richard Gere role.

Warnings: AU, yaoi, coarse language, violence, angst, citrusy situations, suggestive dialog, _significant_ (read that as major, MAJOR) deviation from Pretty Woman script as I see fit. Gratuitous insertion of red herrings throughout.

Spoilers: None for GW, quite a bit for Pretty Woman.

Disclaimer: I don't really need to be Captain Obvious here, do I? No ownership, no money being made, yadda yadda. Written for fun, not profit.

Edulcorate (verb) - To free from harshness (as of attitude); to soften

~~~~~~~

Chapter 17 - Aftermath, Part 2

Duo was feeling slightly unsettled about his self-gratification in the shower as he buttoned his shirt and cuffs. Hadn't he gotten satisfaction the night before? What more could he have wanted?

He hated questioning himself, so he shelved that thought and headed out to the suite where he found Heero eating breakfast at the small dining table. Apparently the man could move pretty damn quietly when he wanted.

"The laptop will be arriving today," he said, walking past Heero and seating himself at the desk. He turned on the portable computer and watched it boot, casting sideways glances at Heero on occasion.

Heero didn't respond. He simply took another bite out of some sort of multigrain bread that he'd lightly smeared with butter. His tongue lapped at a tiny bit of stray butter, leaving a faint sheen on his lips. He didn't bother to look at Duo but grunted his acknowledgement.

Duo found himself staring and forced his attention back to his computer, watching the desktop load and then opening his e-mail program. He had noticed a distinct lack of ads touting a cure for his sexual dysfunction the past two days.

He cleared his throat.

"When it arrives, please insure that it meets all the specifications you provided." A slight emphasis was placed on 'you.'

Another grunt.

"If there is any software you wish to load onto it, please do so. There are numerous web sites from which you may download various progr-"

Heero's head turned and those eyes, a pair of intense blue flames, bored a hole into his forehead. Apparently Duo had just insulted him.

Damn, the man looked good even when he was pissed. Duo didn't often get the benefit of seeing those eyes open and alert before Heero inserted the contacts, and the fact that they were flashing with anger did nothing to sway Duo's opinion that they were, as he'd noted the previous evening, temptation eyes. Like the glow of a Bunsen burner, gradually increasing the temperature of various additives to promote a chemical reaction...

"I'll be at the office all day today," he said, surprised to hear a slight tremor in his voice. He wondered why he felt the need to explain himself to Heero as he continued. "You're on your own once the laptop arrives and you've loaded all the appropriate software onto it. You do remember my criterion?"

Heero's gaze remained unblinking. It was slightly unnerving.

"Right," Duo cursed himself for his need to fill the awkward silence. Wasn't this why men went to hookers in the first place, to avoid the whole 'morning after' awkwardness? Other than the obvious reasons, of course.

He glanced at his watch. "Well, then, I'd best be going." He stood, picked up his jacket from the back of his chair, and hesitated. Heero's attention had returned to his breakfast, and Duo watched in rapt fascination as an orange slice was brought to Heero's lips.

Heero licked the sticky juice off his fingers as he used the other hand to turn a page in the book he'd borrowed from Duo that first night. Duo hadn't even noticed it lying on the table.

Duo opened his mouth, but couldn't think of anything to say. He left the room silently.

~~~~~~

Quatre was back in good spirits the next morning. He felt bad snapping at Trowa the previous night, but he hadn't wanted to admit that he'd suddenly felt a connection to Heero, something he hadn't felt since...since he'd introduced Heero to his world.

He'd regretted it ever since.

It was often hard to tell when what he was feeling were his own emotions. Sometimes he'd swear he could literally taste the waves of sentiment that others emitted, and it colored his perceptions at times.

It wasn't reliable, and the fact that he couldn't always count on it had originally made him think 'it' was just an odd reaction to alcoholic beverages, but then it had happened when he was completely sober and he'd had to admit he was stumped. It wasn't often that it happened without the benefit of alcohol, but enough to indicate it was more than a rather intense 'buzz.' The effects of booze just made it feel worse, amplified, even.

He didn't want Trowa probing. There were things that he'd rather not admit to. He enjoyed the taller man's company, had found the time spent at the bar conversing with him a refreshing change from the nightly performances he gave others. Perhaps things could have been different between them if they'd met under different circumstances, but it was hard to build a friendship that was based on lies. He'd done the same with Heero, but somehow that was different. He colored slightly.

He had to stop dwelling on things that couldn't be changed and get his game face on before any of the regulars came in. He had a nagging feeling that something was brewing, and wanted to be ready for it.

He said a silent prayer of thanks that Trowa had acted as if nothing happened and pasted a bright smile on his face as the brunette unlocked the door and counted out the money for the lunch crowd.

~~~~~~

Duo and Wufei were passing sheaves of paper back and forth across a long table, with Duo occasionally typing something into his computer and then leaning back to announce what the latest bit of info he'd unearthed was.

He noticed that Wufei, despite his dedication to the project at hand, didn't seem as tightly wound as he usually did. Now and then Duo would swear a smile was teasing the corners of his mouth.

Finally it dawned on him, and he slapped Wufei on the back. That got his partner's attention, as he'd known it would. It wasn't something he was in the habit of doing, but he couldn't resist this time.

When Wufei growled at him, he laughed. "Wufei, you look more like a pissed off kitten than an enraged tiger. So, I take it you did the mattress mambo last night?"

Wufei scowled at his crudity.

"It is none of your business when I make love to my wife," he said scoldingly, but the hint of softness in his eyes lessened the severity of his expression.

"Hey, it's a guy thing," Duo said, holding up his hands placatingly. "You're not the only one who-"

'got lucky last night,' his mind supplied, but his throat suddenly constricted and he couldn't get the rest of the words past his lips.

"-still has the hots for his wife after ten years of marriage," he said instead.

"Three."

Duo waved his hand dismissively. "Yeah, but you've known each other since the womb, am I right?"

Wufei shook his head, but the faint smile was just a little bit wider.

"Take a look at the financials on the company from Nevada," he said.

Duo knew he'd been neatly put in his place and pulled the report across the table, then chuckled.

"Rather self laudatory of them, don't you think?" he said, reading the name at the top.

"It's a family name," Wufei said. He placed a pair of wire rimmed glasses on his nose and scanned the NYSE listings for the company's ticker symbol. 

"Hmmm." Duo had had enough with family names, thinking of the Peacecrafts once again. Wufei's precise motions as he'd removed his spectacles from their case and carefully cleaned them before donning them reminded Duo of Heero's elegant dining habits at the Samurai, which also made him think of the more seductive eating style he'd unconsciously used that very morning. Which in turn made him think of-

"Duo."

Duo looked up.

"Have Janet investigate any legal activity that Zodiac has been involved in over the past two years."

"Still think Peacecraft has a chance with Khushrenada?"

Wufei took a moment to answer, his tentative smile wavering. "I like to have all the facts. Where there's smoke, there's fire."

That thought niggled at the edges of Duo's consciousness. It seemed like there was another company that merited investigation, one that they were overlooking, but perhaps he was just unsettled after all that had happened with Heero.

"Janet," he repeated.

Wufei looked at him with slight disapproval on his face. "One of the paralegals. Extremely bright, real knack for ferreting out information."

"Right." Duo had no idea who he was talking about.

Wufei licked a finger and paged through another stack of information, the subtle smile back on his face.

Duo rubbed his chest and stood up. Wufei seemed to have forgotten he was even there, although whether lost in thought about the Peacecraft issue or something more pleasurable, Duo wasn't sure.

~~~~~~

"Miss Relena?"

Relena looked up at the wizened face of their family servant. She supposed 'butler' was as good a term as any, although he was more like family. He served in any capacity they needed, and Relena often considered him more like a favored uncle than something as impersonal as an employee.

"Yes, Pagan?"

He seemed a bit uneasy, and Relena felt the frown beginning to form on her face, before she forced herself to smile. She didn't want Pagan to think she was upset with him.

He bowed slightly, and that's when Relena knew he was really agitated. He hadn't done that since she was six.

"There are visitors..."

"I am expecting him," Milliardo's voice interrupted. "Send him to my office." He paused in the doorway. "Bring coffee." He paused in the doorway, then added softly "please."

Relena had latched onto the word "visitors." Milliardo said he was expecting HIM, and to send HIM into the office. Not THEM.

Pagan still looked hesitant about returning to the foyer, so Relena placed her napkin on the table and stood. The look of relief he gave her was tangible.

An older gentleman with hair whiter than her brother's and a neatly trimmed beard stood regally by the doorway. Several feet away a hooded figure stood with the person's back to Relena, apparently admiring the tiny figurines that adorned a bookshelf near the entrance.

"This way, sir," Pagan said, gesturing toward the hall leading to Milliardo's office and leaving Relena to deal with the mysterious guest.

The person turned and lowered the hood. Pale blond hair and piercing eyes were revealed, and the girl's smile made Relena immediately wary.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Relena Peacecraft," she said with chilling politeness. She extended a hand in greeting. "My name is Dorothy Catalonia."

~~~~~~

As Duo approached the legal department, he could hear faint strains of music coming from one of the smaller offices.

He found himself wondering why he didn't know that some employees liked to listen to the radio while they were working. It wasn't a surprising fact, but just one of those little insignificant details that he used to pride himself on picking up. He found that, if you remembered one small thing when meeting a new person, and managed to work it into the next conversation you had with them, without being obvious about it, it fostered the illusion of true interest in them as a person.

He tried to recall a single thing about anyone he'd spoken to the previous day, and the only thing he could remember was his annoyance at being waylaid when he'd attempted to follow Heero.

That wasn't exactly true. He could also recall, with perfect clarity, the way Meiran's eyes had flashed before she'd gone after Wufei, replacing the sad look that had been there when she'd asked him if he was happy.

He'd always assumed that Meiran and Wufei were happily married, but he didn't think he'd ever seen Wufei looking quite so pleased with himself as he was this morning, not even when they managed to successfully close multi-million dollar deals, not even when he purchased the Ferrari.

He should have noticed things like that about his partner, if no one else. He didn't like the idea that his observational skills were slipping.

~~~~~~~

"...and then he told me that SHE was better in bed!" A file drawer slammed shut before a large tome was dropped onto a nearby table. "And WHY do we keep reference books in the filing cabinet?"

"We don't," came the calm reply. "You put it there because it matched some filing system known only in your universe."

The blond girl who had been ranting sat down next to the book and sighed. "It's just so frustrating, you know?"

The shorthaired redhead seated two desks away from her didn't respond, busily typing a report from the notes in front of her.

"Well, we're through," the blonde added, needing no encouragement. She poked at the book she'd just retrieved. "It's not like I expected an engagement ring or anything," she muttered. "Just honesty. If we were just going to be fuck-a-buddies, that would have been fine, but I'd have been a damn sight more careful if I'd known he was boffing his way through the ranks."

The steady clacking of keys was the only sound that greeted that pronouncement.

"Maybe I should do the same. Except I'd set my sights a lot higher than someone in ACCOUNTING!" Her voice made the last word seem like an epithet.

She smiled wistfully. "Know who I'd love to do it with?"

A quiet snort greeted that comment.

"Duo Maxwell."

The redhead looked up. "You've got to be kidding."

"NO! I mean, I can dream, can't I?"

"He's our boss. Scratch that. The boss' _boss'_ boss."

"So? Have you ever _looked_ at him?"

"When would I have found time to do this gawking?" the shorthaired woman gestured to the mountains of paperwork surrounding her.

"God, his eyes! And all that HAIR," the blonde replied, undeterred. "You just know he'd be aggressive in bed, too."

The sound of someone clearing his throat made them both look up.

The blonde's face flamed, but she managed to squeak out, "Good morning, Mr. Maxwell, what can I do for you?" If she realized the number of ways that question could be interpreted, considering her last statement, she gave no sign of it.

He looked from her to the redhead and back again. The slightest bit of uncertainty graced his features briefly before he looked at the woman who was seated at a computer.

"Janet?"

The redhead shook her head. "Nadia." She tilted her head toward the red-faced blonde. "That's Janet." A steady gaze at Duo, then she added, "I'm just a lowly intern."

To say Duo was surprised was an understatement, but he turned and smiled at the woman he'd come to see.

"Wufei has asked me to pass along an assignment to you. Are you up to the task?"

Her face, although still slightly flushed, took on a look of determination. "Shoot."

"See what you can find in terms of any sort of legal activity involving Zodiac over the past two years."

"How refined do you want the search? Property acquisitions, criminal activity, dissolution of marriages among the CEOs, number of employees applying for dog licenses?"

He glanced at Nadia, who shrugged. "She could do it, too," she offered.

His attention was drawn to the small stereo. It was on a long table that also housed a coffeepot and several pastries.

"Do you mind?" he asked, gesturing to the table.

"No! No, not at all. Help yourself," Janet said. He reached for a mug and his hand hesitated at the next song that played.

Janet showed the first real sign of discomfiture. "Mr. Maxwell? It _is_ okay for us to have the radio playing, isn't it?"

"Duo," he said. "Only jobs that require you to wear a paper hat maintain the outdated opinion that respect is accorded based on how one is addressed."

He thought he heard the tiniest snort from Nadia, making him think of Heero, but Janet beamed at him.

"Duo," she said, nodding happily. Then she launched into the benefits of music on the workplace, citing various studies.

"Of course, if the musical selection is _forced_ upon the workers," she added, pulling out another file from somewhere on her desk as she chattered. "Then it causes agitation, which defeats the purpose. Everyone's preferences are different, and it's relaxing only if the listener perceives it as such." 

She paused in her search to hit one of the preset buttons. She grimaced slightly as yet another love-gone-wrong song played.

"Janet's determined to disprove the theory that the radio DJs are out to get her by playing torch songs on every radio station," Nadia commented. 

This time the snort came from Janet, who hit another button and groaned as the strains of BJ Thomas' "Somebody Done Somebody Wrong Song" emitted from the speakers. The button was rapidly pressed again, and an ad for a local car dealership made Janet look over at Nadia and stick out her tongue.

Duo was nearly dizzy from the exchange, but he was admittedly impressed that Janet seemed capable of carrying on a conversation while retrieving information. He suspected that none of her actions were random, either.

Which also made him realize that he was putting his faith in Wufei's opinion of the paralegal.

"Janet," he said, taking a deep breath. "I'm sure Wufei would be happy with everything up to but not including the dog licensing." She grinned at him broadly, the feral gleam in her eye completely at odds with the ditzy appearance she gave when he'd entered the room.

He bade them a good morning and took his leave. His head was practically spinning.

He closed the door behind him with a sigh of relief.

tbc

~~~~~~~~

NYSE - New York Stock Exchange. The ticker symbol refers to the three or four letter abbreviation used to identify various securities. Actually, there are a few companies, such as AT&T, that have one letter ticker symbols. Ticker symbols were devised in the 1800s for use by telegraph operators. The one-letter designations were saved for the most active stocks at the time, which were primarily railroads. Look, yet another useless bit of trivia for you!

And speaking of useless trivia, Janet and Nadia got their names from the very nice ladies who sent me e-mails encouraging me to enlarge my (nonexistent) penis! I need someone like Heero to take care of my own abundance of spam! G


	18. Dominoes

****

The Edulcoration of Duo Maxwell - 18/?

~~~~~~~

Note: This fic was written in response to Nova Una's challenge to the 1x2ML to write a Gundam Wing/Pretty Woman fusion fic with Heero in the Julia Roberts role and Duo in the Richard Gere role.

Warnings: AU, yaoi, coarse language, violence, angst, citrusy situations, suggestive dialog, _significant_ (read that as major, MAJOR) deviation from Pretty Woman script as I see fit. Gratuitous insertion of red herrings throughout.

Spoilers: None for GW, quite a bit for Pretty Woman.

Disclaimer: I don't really need to be Captain Obvious here, do I? No ownership, no money being made, yadda yadda. Written for fun, not profit.

__

Edulcorate (verb) - To free from harshness (as of attitude); to soften

~~~~~~~

****

Chapter 18 - Dominoes

Instead of going to the conference room where he and Wufei had all their notes spread out, he returned to his desk and locked the door behind him. He passed the light switch without turning it on, then sat down and put his feet on the desk. He leaned back in his luxury model executive chair and steepled his fingers together on his chest.

He was unsettled. Again. He might as well just get a sign with the word on it in big block letters and an arrow pointing at him that he could carry around all day.

He closed his eyes and tried to go over the morning's events, and could not remember a single thing he'd read pertaining to the Peacecraft takeover.

He could, however, remember Wufei's look of pure happiness, Janet's seemingly inane chatter, Nadia's subtle sarcasm, the way Heero had ignored him that morning.

The way Heero had NOT ignored him the previous night.

To his horror, he realized he could recall very little of what it had actually felt like to fuck Heero.

He took a calming breath. He could remember the tight channel enveloping his shaft, the sight of Heero's body swallowing him bit by bit. The clenching of those muscles around his cock as Heero came, causing him to release his own load into the latex barrier.

It had been different than fucking a woman, although how much was due to overcoming the societal taboo of the act and how much was due to actual differences in the physical sensations, he wasn't sure.

He supposed it would have felt exactly the same if he'd ever talked Hilde into giving anal sex a try. Other than the lack of a prostate gland, he was sure the anatomy of males and females, when it came to the rectum, couldn't be all that different.

He noted with disinterest the clinical terms in which he was thinking about it. Heero had explained the entire prepping thing to him in much the same fashion, so it was only to be expected that his own post-coital analysis would follow a similar vein. No pun intended, he grimaced.

Why had it seemed that something was lacking? Was he trying to deny that he'd enjoyed it, or had he actually been...disappointed?

His hips had thrust forward repeatedly as he'd given into the need to fuck Heero senseless, to reassert his dominance.

Because, after all, hadn't he recognized that he had to get around Heero's own need for control?

He didn't like feeling guilty, didn't like the feeling that he'd let Heero down in some way. Heero's pleasure was secondary, after all. His reward was monetary.

Except that he'd promised to make it good for Heero, and at the time he'd said it, he'd meant it.

He'd climaxed because he knew that he'd caused Heero to let go and allow himself to orgasm. He could admit that much. Had Heero really let go, however? Just when he thought he had the man figured out, he felt like he was back at square one. He was running out of time.

He was eager to see what Heero had come up with for a laptop design.

He rubbed at his eyes. Heero was both fascinating and maddening beyond belief. What was that whole cold shoulder thing this morning? A slap in the face for botching his mission? Hilde had never driven him to near fits the way Heero seemed prone to.

Understanding Heero was more difficult than getting Peacecraft to cave in, but it shouldn't take this much of his conscious thought. He had bigger fish to fry, profits to be made. Priorities to be adhered to.

Janet told Nadia she suspected he'd be quite aggressive in bed. That had actually smarted, considering how he'd managed to hold his temptation at bay until he'd entered Heero's body, and then had given in to it with a vengeance.

Mentally reliving the sexual experience from start to finish, his groin didn't stir at all, but just thinking of Heero eating that orange made his mouth go dry.

He got up and grabbed a bottle of water from the cubic refrigerator in the corner, then sat back down. He twisted the top off and took a long swig. He had to get back to Wufei. Soon.

Janet was the paralegal Wufei had praised. From a physical standpoint, she had 'blonde bimbo' written all over her. Her chatter with Nadia had seemed to emphasize that point.

Yet Wufei said she was bright. Her intern seemed to have a certain amount of reluctant respect for her. And she'd been all business, even when she should have felt like cowering under a chair after being caught dead to rights speculating on her boss' sexual prowess. Even when she started on that odd tangent about music, she still seemed to know where everything was. A paradox.

He'd made a rash determination of her abilities before getting to know her. How long had she been working there? How many other employees did Wufei know that he didn't?

He didn't expect to know everyone in a company this size, but suspected that Wufei just might. Granted, his partner tended to take care of the West Coast business more often when the two of them weren't both needed, but still...

Duo hated introspection. He'd managed to get this far without second-guessing himself. His fingers started peeling at the label on his water bottle.

He couldn't quite shake the disappointment he'd felt every time he pictured Heero's impassive face that morning.

He thought of Wufei's pleased little smile again.

Duo had been satisfied last night, but Wufei had looked _sated_.

He sat there for a while, not ready to go back and face that expression on his partner's face just yet.

~~~~~~

The laptop arrived around lunchtime. Heero had spent the morning lost in memories, standing on the balcony the whole time, except for a brief excursion to the bathroom and to shower and dress before the computer arrived.

He was dressed in a loose tank top and a pair of soft, distressed looking jeans that likely had each and every rip and frayed edge specified on paper somewhere for strategic placement.

He felt strangely human for the first time in days. Maybe months.

He wondered how Quatre was doing, if they'd been thrown out of their apartment for nonpayment of rent, if Trowa was still acting like his big brother without being obvious about it.

When the phone rang, this time he answered it. The concierge informed him that a delivery had arrived and Heero bade him to have it sent up.

Despite all that had happened lately, and not so recently, he felt a frisson of excitement at the project before him. Duo had said to create his dream laptop computer, and once he'd accepted the single specification, he'd gone about doing exactly that.

He rubbed his hands in anticipation.

~~~~~~~

A young woman with light brown hair stared at her lab results and shook her head. She was missing something. Her medical background either wasn't sufficient enough to properly analyze something this complex, or she was simply unable to extrapolate what they needed from the available information.

She reached up and removed several pins from her hair, letting it fall from the tightly wound bun she'd created earlier into two thick braids. Her fingers scratched the back of her head where the sudden release of pressure made her scalp itch.

She picked up the report again, skimming the first few lines, then reached for the phone with the other hand.

When her call was answered, a monotone voice greeted her. "Thank you for calling the Saint Rose Dominican Hospital's Siena Campus. How may I direct your call?"

The woman forced a smile onto her face, hoping her voice didn't betray her weariness.

"Dr. Iria Winner, please."

~~~~~~

Heero opened the boxes, his eyes eagerly scanning the contents and comparing each item to the accompanying invoice. He compared everything on that piece of paper to his own mental checklist, and grinned when he got to the smaller box. He practically tore into it, then withdrew a large leather wallet. He opened it up and lovingly stroked the tools nestled within the static proof lining.

He set it aside and cleared off the table. His eyes were flashing with a desire that hadn't been there the night before as he unloaded each component and placed it gently on the wooden surface before him.

He gave Duo's opinion of the computer only a passing thought as he threw himself into the task of assembling some pieces and slightly modifying others.

~~~~~~~

Duo returned to the conference room to find Wufei chewing on the end of a highlighter. He couldn't recall a time when he'd noticed that nervous habit, and once again wondered how much life had been slipping him by. He tamped that thought down immediately. He hadn't spent the last fifteen minutes denying that he'd indulged in some soul searching just to start the whole process all over again. 

"Ready for lunch?" he asked.

Wufei looked up, the glasses slipping down his nose and giving him the appearance of a disapproving school marm. Duo grinned.

"What?"

"Just thinking how cute you look right now."

"You'll look even cuter with my foot up your ass," Wufei muttered. "Did you-?"

"Janet is on it, never fear. She sends her love, by the way."

Wufei shook his head, not the least bit fazed by Duo's blatant teasing. The ringing of the phone drew both the attention of both of them, but as Duo was the one standing, he walked over to hit the speaker button.

"Maxwell."

"Duo, is Wufei available?" Meiran's voice boomed over the surround sound speakers. Duo winced. He'd forgotten they'd had those installed. One more item to go on the list of things he was oblivious to.

"Meiran," Wufei said, his voice amazingly calm. It was his professional voice. Duo glanced over and saw small lines of worry creasing his partner's face.

Interesting.

"Are you free for lunch today?"

Wufei swallowed once, glancing at Duo. Duo nodded.

"Yes."

"Want me to meet you there?"

Wufei nodded, although she couldn't see him. Duo thought he looked downright relieved.

"I would appreciate it."

"Give me twenty and I'll pick something up on my way," she said, and with that the connection was terminated. Duo turned the phone off and looked at Wufei speculatively.

"What?"

"You really need to increase your vocabulary, Chang," he said lightly. "I don't suppose we'll get much done the rest of the day, do you?" He started gathering his copies of the prospectuses and detailed company histories he'd been perusing earlier.

Wufei frowned. He looked ready to protest, then his expression returned to neutral. He hated to admit it, but they needed a break, and he needed to address some more pressing matters. "No, I don't suppose we will."

Duo would have sworn there was a look of sheer panic in Wufei's features just before he snapped his briefcase closed. 

"I'll see you tomorrow, then," he said, then picked up his briefcase and left Wufei in the conference room alone.

~~~~~~~

The phone behind the bar rang, and before Trowa walked over to answer it, Quatre piped up from the table where he was once again ensconced in a game of chance, "tell her I'm not here." Trowa frowned briefly, although Quatre couldn't see him. "Tell her I moved to Guam. Tell her I enrolled in cosmetology school. Tell her I joined a traveling circus."

Trowa answered the phone before Quatre could continue his list of excuses for Quatre's sister, who he had no doubt was the person on the other end of the call.

He told her that Quatre was unavailable, and agreed to give him a message.

Then he noticed the increased anxiety in her voice, and found he couldn't hang up right away.

Quatre was in a heated debate with the other men about whether they were going to play Follow the Queens or Spit in the Ocean. While the blond gambler argued, his hands were busy shuffling the deck, forming a bridge, and letting the cards waterfall into his fingers before repeating the process. He didn't notice that Trowa had not yet placed the phone's receiver back on its base.

~~~~~~~

Duo had unrealistically expected he would leave the building immediately, but he was detained several times by numerous lackeys. Some had legitimate, pertinent questions that only he or Wufei could answer, but others were merely making poorly disguised attempts at sucking up. He felt a bit vindicated that he was still able to tell the difference.

Meiran was entering the building when he reached the lobby.

She had a look of determination on her face, and hoped that look was reserved for her spouse and not for him.

She approached him with one of her patented smiles. It was an expression that showed she was genuinely happy, but also up to something as well.

"Duo," she greeted him, going so far as to embrace him firmly. When she released him, she slipped a brochure into his hand and flashed that smile again. She patted him on the cheek twice before heading to the elevators.

He looked at the handbill he held and shook his head. Then he looked at it again and smiled.

tbc

~~~~~~

Yes, Follow the Queens and Spit in the Ocean are both variants of poker.


	19. Intersections, Part 1

****

The Edulcoration of Duo Maxwell - 19/?

~~~~~~~

Note: This fic was written in response to Nova Una's challenge to the 1x2ML to write a Gundam Wing/Pretty Woman fusion fic with Heero in the Julia Roberts role and Duo in the Richard Gere role.

Warnings: AU, yaoi, coarse language, violence, angst, citrusy situations, suggestive dialog, _significant_ (read that as major, MAJOR) deviation from Pretty Woman script as I see fit. Gratuitous insertion of red herrings throughout.

Spoilers: None for GW, quite a bit for Pretty Woman.

Disclaimer: I don't really need to be Captain Obvious here, do I? No ownership, no money being made, yadda yadda. Written for fun, not profit.

Edulcorate (verb) - To free from harshness (as of attitude); to soften

~~~~~~~

Chapter 19 - Intersections, Part 1

Heero was feeling ridiculously pleased, and allowed himself the indulgence rather than secreting it away in his heart.

Duo's largesse had paid for a vast array of programs. Graphic design, communication and analytical software, and even several games.

He had honestly created the computer as something he would have designed for his own use, but Duo wasn't the only one who could use the laptop as a means of personality assessment. He wanted to laugh at the name. Laptop. Somehow he didn't think that would be an appropriate term, especially when the time came to reveal it to Duo.

Duo had granted him free time once the computer arrived, and by implication, set up as well. Heero frowned. He was a free man; slavery having been abolished long ago in this country, and yet here he was, acknowledging as fact Duo's right to dictate his comings and goings.

He sat back and mulled over the past few days, and then the sex he'd had with Duo the previous night. He drummed his fingers on the table where he'd set up the computer.

Something hadn't been quite right last night. It seemed that the balance of power shifted several times, and all he could say with any certainty was that, physically, they'd both come away from the experience with some sort of fulfillment. Maybe it was that seesawing feeling that had brought him to completion without any penile contact. Maybe it was the surge of power he'd felt when Duo had lost control and started pounding into him like any other john.

The night he'd approached Duo's car, well, Duo's friend's car, he'd adopted an aloof, yet cocky and sarcastic, manner. So different from the normal vibes of barely contained danger he gave off. Quatre was the one who'd pointed out that was his selling point, the element of danger. From the moment Quatre pointed the car out, he'd reached into a part of his personality that hadn't been tapped in a while. All the while, though, he'd been the one in control. Duo hadn't known what to think when he'd demanded payment just to give him directions to the hotel.

Then Duo had gone and defied all his expectations, and yet here he was, still enduring the maelstrom of confusion that enveloped him whenever he tried to make sense of Duo's actions.

He'd been up against people like Duo before. He'd tried to block out so much of his former life, he'd really been blind to a lot of clues that were right in front of him. It was time to put his God-given intelligence to good use again.

A small smile played about his lips. Duo had no idea whom he was dealing with. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more he realized Duo had no idea about a lot of things.

But that was going to change.

~~~~~~

Ever since he'd hung up the phone, Trowa had been standing behind the bar with his arms crossed, moving only to serve the occasional patron. Normally this was his favorite time of day, when there was enough business to keep things profitable, but not so much that he felt he had to be on guard at all times. Granted, the excitement helped break the monotony of days like today, but it also meant that he had to keep his attention from focusing too long on one thing.

Like he was doing right now.

He'd known Quatre for nearly a year, and Heero for not half that time, but at times it seemed like they'd always been friends.

Trowa didn't consider many people his friends, distrustful by nature, a trait that was only accented by events in his past.

His thoughts returned to Heero. Quatre had seemed edgy after Heero had called the other day. He had only the vaguest of ideas what was going on with the quiet young man he'd grown to respect. A lot of people tended to open up to him, as they often did around bartenders and hairdressers, but Heero was tight as a clam. And Quatre...Quatre defied categorization.

He was startled when Quatre called over, in a teasing tone of voice, "aren't you going to get that? Or are you mad at Heero for some reason?"

He looked over at the ringing phone and back at Quatre, who was flirting outrageously with a man he'd never seen before, who had somehow been roped into the poker game. Diversionary tactics, he mused, then picked up the phone.

"Heero," he said.

"Quatre's there," Heero's voice said. If Trowa didn't know any better, he'd swear he could hear the man almost smiling.

"Of course."

Heero pondered those words. Of course. Where else would Quatre be, after all?

"Winning or losing?"

"Flirting."

"Ah."

They were both silent for a moment, Heero's brows wrinkled in momentary confusion, Trowa's attention drifting over to the sounds of laughter as Quatre got the newcomer to blush furiously.

"Keep him out of trouble," Heero finally said, then hung up.

Trowa nodded, to no one in particular, as he hung up the phone, and went back to his previous activity of people watching.

Heero removed the slim headset he'd attached to the laptop and ruffled his hair. They worked better than most phones he'd used, and the signal was crystal clear.

He reflected on his brief conversation, if it could be called that, with Trowa.

Strange. Heero wanted to go out on a limb and say that something was going on with Quatre. He would have sworn he detected the slightest trace of concern in Trowa's voice. Before he put any faith in that feeling, though, he had to first test his newfound intuition. He'd deal with Quatre at the end of the week, if need be.

~~~~~~

Duo read through the pamphlet Meiran had given him and checked the time and date printed on the front.

It wasn't anything earth shattering, and he wasn't sure what Heero would think of it, but it would give him a chance to put to good use that addition to Heero's wardrobe he'd requested on Tuesday.

He leaned back in the chauffeured car and closed his eyes. He was looking forward to this evening with just a touch of trepidation, excitement at seeing the results of his machinations.

His elbow hit the briefcase, knocking it off the seat. On its way to the floor, it hit the button to the radio in the back of the car.

The loud brash music that spewed from the overhead speaker made him wince, and he reached out and snapped it off.

He had to agree with Janet on that one. "...if the musical selection is forced...then it causes agitation..." He shook his head.

Force. Agitation.

His mind was abuzz with thoughts of Peacecraft, Zodiac, and the firm in Nevada. The persistent, nagging feeling that he was missing something vital. His failed relationship with Hilde. Wufei and Meiran.

And Heero.

~~~~~~

"Any progress?" Meiran said, seating herself at one of the chairs and placing a paper bag on the table.

Wufei removed his glasses and gently laid them on the table. He seemed hesitant.

"Some," he relented.

Meiran removed the sandwiches from the bag and slid one of them over to him. She pulled out two small cartons, a milk and a juice, and they followed the sandwich to Wufei's side of the table.

"Eat."

Wufei hadn't thought he'd be able to stomach a single bite, but he managed to eat the entire sandwich. Meiran kept the conversation light, commenting on the art prints in the conference room, and suggesting that the firm should look into something more contemporary.

"What are you up to?" he finally asked.

She smiled at him, the same smile she'd bestowed upon Duo in the lobby.

Wufei repressed a shudder of desire coupled with a hint of fear at her predatory look.

"I think we should go to the bar," she said, not answering his question.

"You want us to go to a bar?"

"Not A bar. THE Bar. It's a little place on Hollywood Boulevard. I heard about it from one of The Wives," she said, making little quotation marks with her fingers for the last two words.

The tiny spark of fear was igniting into something resembling nervousness.

"Hollywood Boulevard."

She pinned him with eyes so black her pupils were indistinct from her irises.

"If you say one thing about Duo and Heero, I will make sure we are never able to have children." Then she smiled again. "I think we need to go somewhere less restrictive," she said. "Someplace that doesn't have a dress code. Someplace where no one will be catering to you because they want something from you." Those eyes were back in full force. "A place where we can TALK."

The gauntlet had been thrown. He'd known it was coming, but it didn't make it any easier.

"Tonight?" he asked, surprised to hear his voice pitched a bit higher than usual.

She shook her head, her ebony colored hair brushing her shoulders as she did so. He wanted to reach over and touch it.

"No can do tonight." She slid a brochure with a photographic collage on its cover across the table. "_This_ is what we'll be doing tonight. Dress to impress."

Then she leaned over the table until their faces were inches apart.

"You missed a spot," she said, catching a bit of mayonnaise from the corner of his mouth with the very tip of her tongue.

She leaned back, gave him a lazy smile, then picked up the paper bag and empty drink cartons. She dropped them in the wastebasket as she left the conference room, whistling.

~~~~~~~

Relena tried to resist the urge to look at the clock every thirty seconds. She'd been stuck with Dorothy long enough to feel downright creeped out. The girl had an almost manic gleam in her eye as she explained the future of Romefeller Industries, her grandfather's second attempt at building an empire, amid a scattering of seemingly random thoughts.

Relena was sure that the girl would have no compunction about using any means at her disposal to make the dream a reality. Seduction, manipulation, falsified evidence, whatever it took.

"You seem troubled, Miss Relena." That voice sent chills down her spine. For some reason Dorothy insisted on calling her that, but the expression on her face made it seem as thought Dorothy were insulting her instead of addressing her with respect.

Dorothy had spent the past hour talking. Most of what she said seemed to have no bearing on anything else, but Relena suspected she was being toyed with in some sort of elaborate cat and mouse game. What did all Dorothy's haphazard bits of conversation have in common? 

She had a little bit to say about almost everything, making them seem like nothing more than conversational ice breakers. Dorothy touched on things like veterinary medicine. Frat parties. The Return of Martin Guerre. The Department of Justice. H.W. Baldwin. Tinkerbell. Some things she recognized, others she didn't, but somehow she knew Dorothy was basking in her confusion. The blonde woman seemed to be putting forth a challenge, all the while _knowing_ that Relena had no idea how to meet it.

Dorothy, she decided, would have made an ideal religious zealot or cult leader. She possessed a voice that could freeze lava, and yet at the same time, it was disturbingly erotic. Relena could see the woman wrapping men around her fingers, getting them to impart whatever she desired. Secrets, wealth, power.

She was like a black widow.

She had a very bad feeling about the condescending smirk on Dorothy's face. Milliardo's keeping things close to the vest had to stop. He was leaving her to the wolves in his efforts to protect her.

She wished she'd worn a sweater.

~~~~~~

Duo's hand trembled slightly as he reached for the doorknob to his penthouse suite, and he frowned. He decided he needed to cut back on his caffeine intake. Or gotten something to eat before he left work. Or at least eaten breakfast.

Wufei's moment of near panic, however brief, had given him food for thought. His partner may have had some incredibly earth-moving sex last night, but it seemed that there might still be some unresolved tension between him and Meiran.

This was exactly why he and Hilde hadn't worked out. She'd expected more than he'd been willing or able to give. He liked the companionship, loved the sex, but the rest of it was nothing more than one big headache.

He realized he was wasting time rehashing the same things he'd beaten to death on the drive from the office to the hotel, and he opened the door.

tbc


	20. Intersections, Part 2

****

The Edulcoration of Duo Maxwell - 20/?

~~~~~~~

Note: This fic was written in response to Nova Una's challenge to the 1x2ML to write a Gundam Wing/Pretty Woman fusion fic with Heero in the Julia Roberts role and Duo in the Richard Gere role.

Warnings: AU, yaoi, coarse language, violence, angst, citrusy situations, suggestive dialog, _significant_ (read that as major, MAJOR) deviation from Pretty Woman script as I see fit. Gratuitous insertion of red herrings throughout.

Spoilers: None for GW, quite a bit for Pretty Woman.

Disclaimer: I don't really need to be Captain Obvious here, do I? No ownership, no money being made, yadda yadda. Written for fun, not profit.

__

Edulcorate (verb) - To free from harshness (as of attitude); to soften

~~~~~~~

****

Chapter 20 - Intersections, Part 2

Heero heard Duo's footsteps in the hall and noted an unnecessary delay between the cessation of footfalls and the turning of the knob. His lips curled in that cocky smile he'd shown Duo on Hollywood Boulevard.

Showtime.

Duo shut the door quietly behind him and his eyes searched the room for Heero. When he didn't see him right away, he thought perhaps Heero had taken advantage of the fact that Duo had told him he was on his own for the day, and had left the hotel.

He saw a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye and felt an irrational wave of relief. Of course Heero would be on the balcony.

He stood in the doorway, watching Heero look out at the city, his arms leaning forward on the ledge separating the balcony from the fourteen-story drop to the ground below.

His position presented Duo with the view of his jean-clad rear. Duo had seen Heero naked, and had seen him in skin-tight leather, but something about the way the distressed looking denim hugged Heero's backside seemed to redefine him as something far more than just a prostitute. When Heero turned around, it was like getting caught ogling his best friend's ass. Assuming he'd ever had a best friend.

He bravely met Heero's gaze and what he saw made him catch his breath.

Instead of the challenge he'd expected to see in Heero's eyes, he saw something infinitely deeper, something indefinable. A soft smile played about the corners of Heero's lips as he leaned back and rested his butt on the ledge, his hands slipping into his pockets, his thumbs hooking over the corners.

He could have passed for a college kid propping himself up against the exterior of a convenience store.

His hair...Heero's hair was uncovered, and for the first time in their short acquaintance, Duo saw it as it was naturally, not matted down from being under a wig all day, not mussed from sleep. It was wild and unruly, yet alluringly stylish at the same time. Duo knew people who paid big money to achieve the same casual look that came effortlessly to Heero. It seemed perfectly fitting for him, and Duo's fingers itched to run through the thick locks that were gently blowing in the breeze. He'd swear he caught the fragrance of his conditioner wafting his way, but he knew that the distance between them was too great for that to be more than a figment of his imagination, based on the morning he'd stood behind Heero at the laptop.

Duo was confused. This was not what he'd expected.

Heero allowed Duo to stand there, looking perplexed and a little bit hungry, before pushing himself off from the ledge and slowly walking into the suite, his shoulder passing close to Duo's without actually touching. Duo's eyes followed him and then the rest of his body did as well.

"I did as you requested," Heero said, his voice steady, but softer than Duo had ever heard it.

Duo nodded, not trusting himself to speak just yet.

"Your sole criterion was for a computer that met my own needs, satisfied my own wants, was exactly what I wanted for myself."

Duo nodded again, feeling an odd pang of jealousy for the computer and then shoving the wayward thought away.

"I don't think you will like it."

Heero was unapologetic. He wasn't gloating, either. He was simply stating a fact. He had seen and used Duo's current laptop, and there again was that word. _Laptop_.

The portable computer he'd designed was certainly not a 'laptop.'

He picked up a leather tote that obviously contained the components, and without another word, unzipped it. A small device resembling a palm pilot was extracted first, and Heero turned that on and set it aside before reaching into the carrying case again.

His hands moved quickly as each piece was removed and assembled with neat efficiency.

Duo was left gawking at the result.

A magnifying screen was attached to the palm pilot, which was docked into a slim rectangular box about half the size of Duo's laptop in all dimensions. A floppy keyboard was attached to that. It was all spread out, taking up a surprising amount of table space, but it was clear that all the pieces could be used on a much smaller surface.

It had taken Heero a surprisingly short period of time to finish, and when he did so, he shoved his left hand back in his pocket and leaned his right hand on the table, cocking his hip toward Duo slightly as a result.

"What the hell is that?"

"This," Heero said, "is what you told me to build."

To say Duo was surprised was an understatement. It defied everything he pictured in terms of a laptop. There was no way that anyone could comfortably use that in their lap, especially not with that floppy keyboard.

Heero let that thought hang in the air for a moment before he started pointing to each piece and explaining. His facial expression was slightly eager, and his voice less clinical than it had been when he'd explained 'prepping' to Duo the night before.

The keyboard was watertight, durable, and foldable as well. Heero explained that a simple lap tray would prevent it from collapsing if used in the field. The hard drive resided in the slim rectangular dock station, and the palm pilot was actually a high-resolution computer monitor. The magnifier changed the seven-inch screen into a twelve-inch display, and the image was sharp and clear.

It was something Duo would never have the patience to assemble, but Heero had made it look effortless.

"Think you can handle it?" Heero asked, and Duo wondered if he was still referring to the computer.

~~~~~~~

Relena wanted to throw her arms around her brother and lose herself in his embrace when he and the other gentleman finally returned from the study. Milliardo's face was inscrutable, but the other man looked rather pleased.

"Dorothy," he said, his voice that of one used to commanding.

She stood and Relena swore for a moment she was going to curtsy, but she merely bowed her head in acknowledgement before turning to Relena.

"I bend down on my knees in the sunlit morning and kiss your wing, grey and white, gleaming in the sun," she said with that annoying, I-know-something-you-don't-know, smile. She pressed her cheek to Relena's, kissed the air beside it, and pulled her hood back over her head before she and her companion left.

Relena watched them leave, not daring let them out of her sight until the door was closed and latched behind them, then turned to her brother.

"Dermail and I have come to an agreement," he said.

"Dermail," she echoed.

"Duke Dermail. He was the CEO of Zodiac." His head was turned in her direction, but the look of contempt was not directed towards her.

"That is, until Treize took him down."

~~~~~~~

Duo walked over to the computer that Heero had set up and ran his fingers over the bendable keyboard, surprised at how soft it felt.

"It takes some getting used to. Most people don't have the patience to develop the right amount of pressure needed to get it to respond successfully." Heero demonstrated that it was, in fact, possible, by swiftly typing a few sentences into a blank word processing document that he'd opened at some point.

Duo noticed an electronic cuff on Heero's right index finger that covered a good portion of the digit, with a notch at the knuckle, presumably to allow the finger to bend.

Heero noticed Duo's curious glance and raised his hand from the keyboard slightly. He flipped a tiny switch on the cuff with his thumb, and a tiny pinpoint of red glowed from the docking station. Heero tilted his head toward the screen. Duo's eyes flicked to the magnified image, and saw the cursor move as Heero's finger did the same. A small flick of his thumb, and the red light went out. The cursor didn't move.

"This is my own device," Heero said, and Duo detected a tiny bit of pride in his voice. "On hand at all times, easy to maneuver, much more responsive than a touch pad or trackball."

Duo was speechless, so he allowed Heero to show him the software he'd loaded onto the computer. His eyes kept glancing at Heero's hands. Slim, graceful, callused, deceptively strong, amazingly talented hands.

He was surprised to see that Heero had loaded several games onto the computer, but more so at the variety. A combat game, a role-playing game, a computer version of a popular board game, several card games, and Mahjongg.

Heero offered no explanation and Duo didn't question him.

He'd wanted a glimpse into Heero's psyche, but he had underestimated what he'd find. He'd known Heero was complicated, but he hadn't expected this.

He suspected that Heero knew his intent all along, and had deliberately chosen a wide array of software titles that could have come straight from a new release catalogue, telling nothing of the user.

How much of what he saw was Heero, and how much was a deliberate attempt on Heero's part at misleading him?

His eyes met Heero's, and it felt like there was some silent communication between them. He rather hoped there had been, but if so, he wasn't able to decipher the enigmatic look on Heero's face.

He broke eye contact first and reached for his briefcase. He withdrew the brochure Meiran had given him and handed it to Heero, who scanned it briefly without a twitch of emotion on his face.

Then he looked up at Duo, his deep brown eyes almost laughing, and asked, "what do you want me to wear?"

'Nothing at all,' Duo wanted to say first, followed by, 'exactly what you are wearing right now.'

Then he remembered the wardrobe he'd purchased for Heero and managed to keep himself from walking over to Heero and grinding their hips together.

He crooked a finger and beckoned Heero to follow him, then moved to the bedroom.

He hadn't hung up the garment bags that had arrived, and he would swear they'd still been draped over the chair when he left for the office that morning, but he couldn't remember. He suspected that Heero was allowing him the illusion of leading. Seemed as though he were suspecting Heero of a lot of things.

"I didn't look at them," Heero's voice said, much closer than he'd realized. He turned and looked directly into Heero's eyes. They were close enough that their breaths mingled.

"I wouldn't have minded if you had," Duo said, then turned to the closet and unzipped one of the garment bags. He was pleased to see that no wrinkles had been created by the suit's tenure on the chair, and ran a hand down the smooth fabric. It was softer than he'd hoped, and he wondered if he'd be able to keep from touching it, and touching it often, later that evening.

He supposed he should have Heero try it on to insure that it fit properly, but he wanted to postpone seeing Heero in it until they were ready to go.

"Are you familiar with Moses?"

If there was one question Duo did not expect to hear, that was it.

Heero had that slightly amused look again. "Gloria Moses. One of the artists whose work is on exhibition this evening."

Oh. He'd never bothered to actually _read_ the brochure Meiran had given him, simply accepting that he would go, and only making note of the time printed on the front of the handbill.

"I tend to favor the work of someone like Alatza," he said, and the look on Heero's face seemed to indicate he'd passed some sort of test.

Curiouser and curiouser, a voice in his head laughed.

~~~~~~~

Relena stared hard at her brother, and he finally seemed to take notice.

"Do not second guess me, Relena," he warned.

"Then do not treat me like a little girl!" she demanded, nearly belying those words with a stamping of her foot. She took a deep breath. "Milliardo, I don't trust them."

"You don't even know Dermail."

"How does Dorothy Catalonia fit into all this?"

He reached behind him and gathered his hair into a ponytail, pulling an elastic band from his wrist and tying it back before replying.

"She's his granddaughter. She also serves as a liaison between Romefeller and other companies."

Relena thought she'd suppressed the shudder that ran through her, but Milliardo saw it.

"Don't let those eyebrows intimidate you," he said, a hint of actual amusement entering his voice.

She shook her head. While Dorothy did possess a rather...striking...set of eyebrows, she'd barely noticed them considering the myriad of confusing bits of information that Dorothy had delighted in sharing.

"Milliardo..."

He seemed to think she was going to say something else. "Do you take me for a fool, Relena? I did not sign anything. Nothing will be done without a team of lawyers present. I would not put the company's future at stake by acting on a whim. I told him that we would close the deal tomorrow, at his office, at two o'clock."

He turned and strode out of the room, the haphazard ponytail twitching behind him.

She wasn't sure what she was going to do, but she knew she had to think of something. She simply could not let her brother enter into a partnership with Romefeller.

She prayed for inspiration to strike before Milliardo left on the morrow.

~~~~~~~

Duo sat across from Heero at the dining table. The portable computer had been disassembled by Heero and neatly packed into the leather tote with as much ease as it had been put together.

Duo had ordered lunch from room service, and he found himself once again fascinated just watching Heero eat.

"What kind of foods do you normally eat?" he asked.

Heero looked at him rather curiously, and Duo wanted to kick himself for his need to fill the silence once again. It hadn't even been an awkward silence, but a comfortable one. Perhaps that was why he'd felt the need to break it.

And once again, Heero surprised him.

"Diet contributes to the enjoyment of anal sex," he said, then brought a piece of broccoli to his mouth.

Duo almost choked on the water he was drinking. Heero continued as if he hadn't noticed.

"Sufficient fiber is necessary in one's diet to avoid forced evacuations, which will irritate anal tissues."

For a topic that was most certainly not suitable for discussion while dining, if at all amongst even the closest of friends, Heero seemed remarkably at ease.

"Everything introduced into the body has an effect on the body as a whole," he went on, pausing to take a sip of water. "A ripple effect, if you will."

Duo wanted to explore that idea, but it brought up a whole host of other questions that he felt were not going to be answered.

Somehow he suspected Heero knew it, too.

~~~~~~

Business usually picked up right around the time that most people got out of work, so by five o'clock the bar was filling up with a mix of regular patrons, harried businessmen, and tourists.

Trowa was busy tending bar, but that didn't mean he missed the brief exchange between Quatre and a nervous looking young man who was blushing furiously. Quatre tilted his head toward the men's room and then walked past the other man, brushing his fingertips along the nape of his neck as he did so.

Not ten seconds after the restroom door shut behind Quatre, the young man got up and hurried after him.

Trowa frowned. He wished Quatre wouldn't do that here, but on the other hand, he did feel a bit better when he knew where the blond was conducting his business.

Ten minutes later the young man left the bar in a hurry, his face flushed but happy.

Shortly after that, Quatre sauntered out of the bathroom. When he noticed Trowa's gaze on him, he winked, then headed upstairs, most likely to join the poker game Trowa knew was already in progress.

~~~~~~~

Duo was sitting in the armchair, a pair of magnifying glasses perched on his nose as he read the tiny print on the document in front of him. Heero was behind him, rubbing his shoulders.

He forced himself to focus on the text and not on Heero's hands, or whatever reasons were lying behind Heero's sudden change of attitude.

God, Heero's hands felt so damn _good_, though.

His eyes slid shut and his head drooped forward, the pages in his hand fluttering to the floor.

Heero's hands rested on Duo's shoulders for a moment, then the shorthaired man moved from the back of the chair to the floor in front of Duo. His eyes skimmed some of the pages as he collected them and tried to put them in some semblence of order.

One word caught his eye and he froze. He looked up at Duo, who was dozing lightly, and skimmed the document quickly.

He felt a familiar prickling in the back of his mind.

Maybe it was just his background, making him read too much into an otherwise innocuous business proposal.

He looked up at Duo again.

He knew at that moment that he was going to do something he was probably going to regret, something he'd tried hard not to do for a while now. Trust his gut instinct.

Damn it.

tbc

~~~~~~~~

The foldable keyboard mentioned can be seen here: http:// www. notestation . com / flex_ keyboard . htm - you will need to delete the spaces, but it's the only way to get the URL to not vanish when the page is uploaded.

The magnifying screen does exist, but I can't find a picture of it. It does attach to the screen. I'm taking liberties, as magnifier is designed for use with larger monitors, but the one I am thinking of is capable of 175% magnification and no loss of image clarity.

Heero's little finger cuff mouse device is not only his invention, it's mine as well.

~~~~~~~~

holly - if you ever watch Pretty Woman after reading this fic, you'll realize how much I've completely destroyed the original script, I think. I was incredibly pleased with your comments on chapter 18, as I was apparently successful in my intent for that chapter. I'm flattered that you postponed going to dinner until you read the latest update! ;-) So many things I'd love to respond to, but alas, cannot!

Curious Dream Weaver - thanks again for taking the time to post your reviews for each chapter. I did think that the relationship between Relena and Dorothy needed to capture more of how I perceived Dorothy, from her appearance in the series, so I'm glad you liked Relena's opinion of the other woman. I find it interesting when someone points out what they thought of Quatre's behavior as the story has progressed.

161386/Kanon*A - You are most likely correct. I have poured so much of myself into this story, I wouldn't be surprised that people are learning more about me just reading it than they might from actually meeting me! I am so very pleased that you see the story as far more than the bizman-hooker plot, as you said, because I found the Pretty Woman script simply impossible to imagine for the cast of Gundam Wing without significant modification. Then it kind of...gained a life of its own. It has been an absolute joy to write, so knowing that so many people have been following it for a while now has made it all the more rewarding. Heero has been a lot of fun to work with ever since I sat down and decided what events brought him to where he is now. WOW. I am flattered that you actually printed out pages to read later on. I have done that with a few fics myself, but I never imagined anyone would do it to mine! I do understand that a lot of people read but don't review, so I appreciate your taking the time to do so. The reviews aren't why I write, and I would never hold the story ransom waiting for reviews, either, but it is appreciated when someone takes the time to let me know what they think.

mira - I hope the twists and turns eventually become clear as the story progresses. It has become rather suspenseful for a story based on a romantic comedy.

I apologize if I've missed anyone this time around. I don't respond to reviews at the end of every chapter, because I'm usually right at work on the very next one, so forgive me if you feel I've ignored you on purpose. The last few chapters came out rather close together, so it's possible I missed your review in that timeframe.

I am rather pleased with Chapter 21, and I hope you will be as well when it's posted. Stay tuned!


	21. Día de Los Muertos

****

The Edulcoration of Duo Maxwell - 21/?

~~~~~~~

Note: This fic was written in response to Nova Una's challenge to the 1x2ML to write a Gundam Wing/Pretty Woman fusion fic with Heero in the Julia Roberts role and Duo in the Richard Gere role.

Warnings: AU, yaoi, coarse language, violence, angst, citrusy situations, suggestive dialog, _significant_ (read that as major, MAJOR) deviation from Pretty Woman script as I see fit. Gratuitous insertion of red herrings throughout.

Spoilers: None for GW, quite a bit for Pretty Woman.

Disclaimer: I don't really need to be Captain Obvious here, do I? No ownership, no money being made, yadda yadda. Written for fun, not profit.

__

Edulcorate (verb) - To free from harshness (as of attitude); to soften

~~~~~~~

****

Chapter 21 - Día de Los Muertos

Relena couldn't concentrate on her homework. How she could possibly be expected to finish school when the foundation of her world was in danger of collapsing was beyond her, but she knew if she couldn't handle the stresses of juggling high school with her personal problems, she wasn't cut out for the business world. It was only going to get harder after she graduated.

She found herself biting her pencil as she worried over the accounting ledger in front of her. She should have taken precalculus instead.

"Miss Relena?"

She looked up at the welcome interruption. She half hoped Pagan had known she needed a break and had brought her a light snack, but instead he seemed a bit unsure of himself.

"Yes, Pagan?" she encouraged.

"There is a phone call for you," he said, clearly at a loss.

She was just as perplexed. "For me?"

He nodded, but didn't look particularly pleased.

Her stomach fell. It wasn't Dorothy, calling to continue her sparrow-on-a-string game, was it?

She got up to answer the phone in the hall, gripping the doorframe tightly as if to ground herself before picking up the headset that was lying next to the antique looking phone.

Pagan hovered in the background, but at a respectable distance, as she placed the phone to her ear.

~~~~~~

Duo took a moment to admire Heero's appearance. He had been right in his color selection.

Heero was dressed entirely in silk, but each piece had a different texture. His crisp shirt was crane gray, and the tie was nearly the same shade. His jacket and pants were a deep granite color.

This time Duo didn't resist the urge to touch the impossibly soft fabric. It had a slight sheen, but it had a matte, rather than a shiny, appearance nonetheless.

"They say that clothes make the man," Duo said, letting his fingers run along the jacket's lapel before stepping back and shaking his head. "Not true. The man makes the clothes."

Everything fit as if they'd been custom-tailored, which they had. The cut of the jacket hinted at the hidden strength in Heero's slim figure instead of hiding it altogether. He looked every bit as dangerous as a panther, and just as sleek.

Duo had wanted to rejoice when Heero hadn't deigned to put the wig on, but was disappointed that the contact lenses remained. He supposed he couldn't have everything.

Heero returned the scrutiny. Duo was immaculately dressed in black from head to toe, a burnt carmine silk handkerchief in his breast pocket the only relief in color. His dress shirt was unbuttoned at the top, giving a casual appearance to his otherwise formal attire. Duo caught his speculation, and Heero gave him one of those mysterious smiles before leaving Duo alone in the bedroom.

He'd been impressed with Duo's taste. His grandfather would have been pleased, he mused, with the harmonious appearance they made, both individually and as a couple. He nearly balked at the idea of the two of them as a 'couple,' but Duo had said in the beginning that he wasn't sure what he wanted from Heero during the week.

Unless Heero's intuition was off, Duo was going to attempt to put a different spin on their so-called relationship, at least to the world beyond the walls of the penthouse suite. 

~~~~~~

Quatre had not left the bar since he'd gotten there earlier that day, and Trowa was growing weary of his mood swings. He went from flirtatious to bold to amused, then finally to pissed and back again.

"Quatre," he said, when one of the blond's potential clients left him at the bar. Quatre was apparently waiting for a decision one way or another. His back was to Trowa, and his attention was sweeping the crowd in case he didn't get the answer he wanted.

"Mmmm?"

"You've lost a significant amount of money to Otto over the past few days, haven't you?"

Quatre's voice was rather sullen. "Not that much."

"Heero was ready to take your head off the other night because you lost all the rent money."

"Heero wasn't REALLY mad," Quatre said defensively. "He knew that I wouldn't let things get too far out of hand."

That seemed contradictory to the murderous gleam in Heero's eyes Trowa had seen the night that he'd headed up the stairs and hauled Quatre outside. The same night that Quatre said Heero had managed to successfully land a rich client. It gave him pause.

He hated to accuse Quatre of lying, but the man had the most annoying habit of twisting things to suit his purposes. He was, Trowa thought, 'creatively honest.'

"When was the last time you did more than a hand job in the bathroom, Quatre?"

"What?"

"You heard me."

"That's none of your business," Quatre said stiffly, turning his head to look at Trowa over his shoulder. His aquamarine eyes were sparking with anger.

"It is when you conduct your 'business' on these premises."

"It's not like you're in risk of being shut down by the cops," Quatre defended himself, turning his back to the bar again.

Trowa took a deep breath. "That's not the point."

"Then what IS the point?"

Trowa wanted to throttle him, so help him, he really did.

"The point is, why do you always accuse Otto of cheating when he wins?"

"Because he's so miserable!" Quatre blurted out.

Trowa was silent for a moment, but not long enough for the blond prostitute to make himself scarce.

"Care to explain that?" he asked, keeping his voice level, calm, and without inflection of any kind.

"Not particularly."

"The others are starting to think Otto is a cheater as well. It's rather unfair of you."

That did the trick. Quatre turned around and stared at Trowa beseechingly.

"He's broadcasting his misery all over the place! I can't play a decent game with all that..._noise_ around me!" Quatre slammed the side of his fist on the countertop in frustration. On the heels of that outburst, he pushed himself away from the bar and, to Trowa's surprise, walked right out the door.

~~~~~~

The gallery at 2525 Michigan Avenue was one of many in the massive building. Their destination was one of the lofts. Duo was sure they'd eventually run into Meiran and Wufei, and looked forward to that meeting with a bit of trepidation, considering the last, and only, time Wufei had gone anywhere near Heero.

Heero's face alternated between an expressionless mask, usually when others came within his personal space, and that sexy little smile he bestowed upon Duo and only Duo.

It finally hit him. Not that Heero was flirting with him, but that he was doing so to keep him off balance. Duo recognized the tactic, as it was one he used all the time, and, in fact, had used it on Heero.

It didn't prevent him from enjoying it.

Heero seemed drawn to a variety of art styles. Duo found him studying a sculpture called "Black Millenium Broken Pencil Structure" according to the placard.

"Like it?" Duo said, leaning over Heero's shoulder.

"Hmmmm."

"It's..." Duo had no words for the tower of black pencils that resided in the glass case.

"Ugly," Heero inserted, not taking his eyes off it.

"Then why..."

"Just because I don't find it aesthetically pleasing doesn't mean I don't find it symbolic."

"I see." At least, I think I do, Duo thought. He left Heero to meditate or analyze or whatever he was doing in front of the pencil sculpture.

His attention was drawn to a colorful steel structure titled "_ A Novia Do Malandro_" and was therefore several yards away from Heero when he heard someone yell a greeting from across the room. He turned instinctively, even though he didn't recognize the name.

"_A la madre!_ Yuy!" 

At first Duo expected the shout was directed toward one of the artists, several of whom were mingling with the guests on various floors, but he was stunned to see an excited Hispanic man gesturing wildly and babbling in Spanish at Heero, who apparently had yet to acknowledge him.

__

"¿Es realmente usted? Pensé que estaba muerto!"

Finally Heero turned from the glass display case to look at the man. His posture was relaxed, and he raised his shoulders as if in question. Duo wanted to move closer to hear what was being said, but thought he'd find out less if Heero saw him out of the corner of his eye.

Heero's words were soft, but Duo would swear he heard a few Japanese phrases. Why would he speak Japanese to a South American?

The man looked up at Heero's face intently, squinting, even. Whatever he saw there made his expression become one of chagrin. He apologized profusely in English, then realized a few other guests were looking at him curiously.

He spared Heero one more look, begged his pardon again, and left, smiling confidently at anyone who happened to gawk at him as he made his way through the crowd. He acted as if he hadn't just embarrassed himself in front of everyone.

Everyone wears a mask, Duo mused. He waited for Heero to decide to join him, and he gave up the sculpture display in favor of a wall of paintings.

Heero rejoined him at Russ Andrade's _Brute Force_ but said nothing about the brief exchange, so Duo didn't bring it up either. Apparently it had been a case of mistaken identity.

Apparently.

But Duo knew that sometimes things weren't always as they seemed.

~~~~~~

Meiran was the picture of elegance despite the bold red color of her slip dress. Duo didn't think he'd ever seen her dressed in anything that called so much attention to herself. It looked good on her. She was positively vibrant.

She greeted him warmly, going so far as to embrace him lightly, and then she smiled at Heero. She didn't force him into a handshake this time, but gently rested her right hand on his arm for a fraction of a second as she expressed her delight in seeing him again.

Wufei's look was shuttered, but Duo hadn't exactly expected anything more. As for Heero, his posture was deliberately relaxed. Just like it had been when the man had approached him earlier.

Duo's knowledge of Spanish was limited to legal terms, basic conversational buzz words, and typical phrases needed by tourists, although he could follow most of a conversation if the words were spoken with painful slowness.

One word had jumped out at him when the man accosted Heero.

Whoever he thought Heero was, he'd assumed he was dead.

tbc

~~~~~~

Warning: Excessive author's notes ahead!

Día de Los Muertos - Day of the Dead, celebrated on November 2nd, following Día de Todos Los Santos - Day of All Saints (November 1st). The souls of the innocents (those who died as children) are honored on All Saint's Day followed by a celebration on November 2nd for those who loved ones who died as adults.

So why did I choose that as the chapter title? Because I'm a pain in the ass. Or I thought it had some deeply symbolic message to impart, just like half the hints I drop all over the place.

My deepest thanks to shinigami2174 for cleaning up my butchered Spanish and for enlightening me on Día de Los Muertos. Muchas gracias!

Sparrow-on-a-string: Taken from the story of the same name, written in 1969 by Alice Scanlan Reach. Long story short, the husband in the tale, Harry, is married to a cruel woman, Eddie, whom he'd known since the age of five or six. Eddie's personality is highlighted early in the story via flashback. She'd cured an injured sparrow, then delighted in releasing it. The sparrow soared skyward, then faltered, fluttering to the ground, as a result of the long, 'but not too long,' string she'd attached to its leg. It is later used as a metaphor in the story for a false sense of freedom that is only to be snatched away at the last minute. 

crane gray: a purplish gray that is bluer and duller than dove gray, bluer and slightly less strong than granite, darker and slightly redder than zinc, and bluer and darker than cinder gray

granite gray: a purplish gray that is redder and slightly stronger than crane, darker than dove gray or cinder gray, and redder and deeper than zinc -- called also metallic gray

burnt carmine: a moderate to deep red that is slightly bluer than cadmium purple -- called also old red, purple lake

In Chapter 20, Heero mentioned Gloria Moses (an artist mentioned in the brochure) and Duo mentioned Mikel Alatza. Now that you know they went to the BGH Gallery, I can include links to representative samples of their works, as well as that of some of the other artists mentioned, for those interested. 

Those who aren't, the chapter is over. I feel like Ferris Bueller. Go along now, shoo! Come back when Chapter 22 is ready!

Here are the art links. I have to be able to "see" things to write most of the scenes, so I had a lot of pieces in mind. As always, you will need to delete the spaces. If you're really interested and don't have the patience to go through deleting spaces, I'd be happy to e-mail the links to you.

One of Moses' pieces can be seen here: http: // www . artla . com / artists / paint /moses / mgblue.htm ? 46,38

Mikel Alatza: http : // www . artla . com / artists / paint / alatza / altzmgrm.htm

The steel and lacquer piece, _A Novia Do Malandro_, that Duo moved to after leaving Heero with the pencil tower: http : // www . artla . com / artists / sculpture / howe / hbnovia.htm ? 33,43

And of course, the pencil sculpture itself, Robert Levine's "Black Millennium Broken Pencil Structure" can be seen at http : // www . artla . com / pages / bw / index . html

Andrade's Brute Force: http : // www . artla . com / artists / paint / andrade / rabrute . htm

Are you all 'art'ed' out now?

As I side note, I wanted desperately to feature Bermudian artist Louisa B. Flannery's _Feather and Bone_ and _Feather and Bone #2_, but could only find her _Bird Leg_ print (from which the other two stem). I could have faked it, but my memory of the prints have faded. I tend to be drawn to vivid prints, surrealism, and fractals, so the fact that I was so taken by a trio of black and white prints was surprising. I actually met Flannery at the Hamilton Art Museum, and she was immensely flattered when I told her the same. My one regret was that I was unable to buy a reproduction of any of the prints, not even a postcard! You can find _Bird Leg_ by doing a search for it with the artist's name.


	22. Contact

The Edulcoration of Duo Maxwell - 22/?

Warnings: AU, yaoi, coarse language, violence, angst, nonexplicit male/male sex, suggestive dialog, _significant_ (read that as major, MAJOR) deviation from Pretty Woman script as I see fit. Gratuitous insertion of red herrings throughout.

Spoilers: None for GW, quite a bit for Pretty Woman.

Disclaimer: I don't really need to be Captain Obvious here, do I? No ownership, no money being made, yadda yadda. Written for fun, not profit.

Edulcorate (verb) - To free from harshness (as of attitude); to soften

* * *

Chapter 22 - Contact

Heero wasn't sure if he wanted to laugh or curse when he heard Alvarez call him from across the room. He was still debating that when the man reached his side and let him know that he'd assumed Heero was dead.

He wasn't sure if Alvarez had honestly considered him deceased, or merely said that because of the length of his disappearance. If it were the former, he supposed it was better than the truth, although it could make things a little complicated later on. He gave a passing thought to how many others had made the same assumption, then decided he was not prepared for any further speculation at the moment.

He could feel Duo's gaze on him, was absolutely sure that he wasn't imagining it. He'd blanked his expression and tried to pull off the role of a politely confused Japanese tourist. He hadn't been sure if Alvarez had reason to know Heero spoke Japanese, so, for good measure, he'd slipped into the Kyo Kotoba dialect that only his paternal grandmother used. It never hurt to get too far into a part to make it convincing. The thought made him want to cringe as he thought of the current role he was playing. How had he managed to set himself on this path again? That's right. It had been an 'accident.' He had certainly not intended on this particular rite of passage when he'd headed West.

How much Duo had heard or assumed from that confrontation he could only guess, but he wasn't going to ask.

Alvarez hadn't believed him at first, had thought he was merely kidding and pretending not to recognize him as just a tease. Why, Heero had no idea. He had never been the type to joke, not around people he wasn't close to. He realized that Alvarez remained unconvinced until he made direct eye contact.

Alvarez was apparently unaware how very rude that would be considered by most Japanese, but Heero welcomed it, because he could pinpoint the instant Alvarez realized his 'mistake.'

Heero Yuy had unmistakable blue eyes. Alvarez realized that the gentleman he was speaking to did not. Therefore, he had been mistaken in assuming he'd recognized Heero Yuy.

Despite his relief, he was also rather disappointed in Alvarez. He filed away that thought and looked at the broken pencil structure once again.

It was likely glued or epoxied, otherwise it would never have maintained its precarious balance, but as he'd mentioned to Duo, it was symbolic.

It looked as though the entire thing would come crashing down if just one pencil was extracted. Or perhaps it would be enough to merely move a pencil slightly to cause a total structural collapse.

He'd finally rejoined Duo, to avoid giving his 'employer' too much time to fabricate his own theories on what had happened with Alvarez. They were already back to tiptoeing around each other, but Heero wasn't quite ready to resume the game yet.

Lost in his thoughts as he was, he was unaware of the presence of a figure with long blond hair standing in the shadows on the other side of a large floor-to-ceiling sculpture.

'Yuy,' the person noted. The name struck a distant chord of memory. The figure waited until it was clear it could escape undetected, then quietly slipped out of the gallery.

* * *

Heero was taken by surprise to see Meiran and Wufei there, although he probably shouldn't have been. He had expected Duo to make the evening into some sort of turning point, although he wasn't quite sure if the ruse would involve his friends as well.

Duo seemed to slide into his own roles with seamless ease, and he surreptitiously watched the interaction between Duo and Wufei.

Apparently Meiran caught him despite his attempts to hide his curiosity.

"They have been partners for several years now," she said, tilting a crystal champagne flute ever-so-slightly toward the two men, who were currently addressing a couple who seemed to have overindulged on the complimentary champagne already. "But I never get tired of watching them in action."

She looked at Heero with amusement in her eyes.

"Bet you any second now, Duo will lean forward slightly, toward the woman, while Wufei is distracting the husband."

Heero shook his head, not willing to take that bet. Sure enough, Meiran was right.

"Duo is creating an illusion of more than just interest, but of sexual awareness of the woman. She will later go home with her husband, perhaps sleep with him as a result of the kickstart Duo has just given her libido. She might not even be aware of it. The funny thing is that Maxwell-Chang has no current business with them, but some day, they might." Her eyes met Heero's again, briefly.

"Know what will happen then?"

"She will somehow manage to subtly influence her husband's decision in the firm's favor."

Meiran looked completely delighted at his response, and her smile was dazzling. Heero couldn't help but smile in return, although not nearly as widely.

"I won't put you on the spot and ask you where you met Duo or what you are to him," she said, watching her husband again. "And I won't apologize for my husband's behavior. He is capable of cleaning up his own messes." She took a tiny sip of champagne.

"I think you could be good for Duo."

She didn't say anymore on the topic. Heero wanted to assume that she had no idea how he and Duo met, but he was willing to bet that very little got past Meiran Long.

He glanced at her while her gaze was fixed on Wufei. He saw pride there, and passion, and a hint that there was perhaps some unfinished business between them.

"You're right," she said, startling him. She smiled at him again, this time a calculating smile. "All of those things."

She returned her attention to the quartet still engaged in conversation. "I can't read your mind, Heero, but I can see that you are interested in me. Not as a man is interested in a woman, but as one intriguing person to another. I have never been able to hide what I'm feeling. Eyes the windows of the soul, as the expression goes. Duo, however...Duo has the blinds drawn on his. Wufei, on the other hand..."

She took another sip, and her lips smiled into the rim of the glass.

"I have a date with my husband tomorrow," she said softly, more to herself than to Heero.

And we WILL talk then, she promised herself.

* * *

It was just past ten when Duo bowed out of the exhibition. During the time they'd been there, he'd found several occasions to introduce Heero, simply by name, without explaining his role in Duo's life. He did, however, often touch him briefly in the small of the back or on the arm as he made the introductions. Some people seemed to zero in on the brief contact, and others merely extended a hand and greeted him politely.

Duo had decided to throw a few hints out regarding his dubious sexual orientation. He'd met with mixed results, as he'd expected, but it was amazing what people were willing to tolerate when you could easily bankrupt them many times over.

Some of them seemed completely unfazed, although whether that had to do with Duo himself or their own opinions on homosexual relationships, he wasn't sure.

He admitted to himself that he'd enjoyed the warmth of Heero's back under the gray silk, and had often wanted to leave his hand there instead of making the touch seem just a bit more than casual. Once he allowed his fingers to linger slightly, trailing a path from one side of Heero's lower back to the other before withdrawing his hand.

Heero had played his part well, keeping his expression neutral when Duo refrained from any sort of contact, and adopting a subdued affectionate look whenever Duo touched him.

He wasn't going to lie to himself. He'd called it a night early because he was eager to get back to the hotel.

Things seemed to be moving far too fast, and yet painfully slowly at the same time. He would fight the urge to give in so quickly this time. It was damned hard, though. Heero was a difficult temptation to resist.

* * *

By ten-thirty, they had divested themselves of their shoes, socks, and jackets. Heero had also removed the contacts and his tie. He was seated on the loveseat with his top two shirt buttons undone, and Duo was on the floor, in front of the vacant cushion next to Heero, with several papers spread out beside him. The television was on, but neither of them were paying it any mind.

"Tell me one thing about yourself, Heero," he said, not looking up from the pages in his hand. Then he thought better of it and turned his head, tilting it up to meet Heero's questioning gaze.

"Not because I'm paying you. Not because I'm demanding to know something. Just tell me one thing. Like where you went to school, for instance, or what you used to do in your spare time."

He didn't think Heero was going to answer him, so he turned his attention back to the pages.

"Monrovia, Berkeley Heights, Montclair, and Osaka."

Cities, no states. There were several Montclairs Duo was aware of, but still, he'd gotten more than he'd expected. Did he mean Monrovia right here in California? No reason to suspect he didn't, but Duo didn't know how many other states had cities of the same name. Osaka was obvious.

He wanted to ask where Heero grew up, but thought that might be pushing his luck.

He settled for one more question.

"Did you...live here? Before?" Before you decided to sell yourself for whatever reason you have?

Heero was silent, and Duo cursed himself for not remaining content with the little bit of info he'd already managed to obtain.

"Yes."

It really didn't reveal much, as 'here' could be applied to anything from Beverly Hills to the United States, but Duo felt the tension leave his body. He hadn't realized how worried he was that Heero was going to retreat into that shell he sometimes hid himself in. He felt he had to offer something in return if he ever wanted to get Heero to impart anything else in the future.

"When I first met Wufei," he said, "he greeted me in much the same manner he greeted you. Seems he thought I was hitting on Meiran at the time."

Heero was not surprised by that bit of news.

"I've know him for a few years now, and we work together well, but lately it seems that I really don't know what makes him tick."

Duo was quiet for a moment, perusing the document in his hand. He laid it down and picked up another.

"The night I met you," he said, "I'd just broken up with my girlfriend of three years. Well, we were kinda on and off in that time. Had just gotten more serious the last six months or so. Or I should say, she broke up with me. She was something else. A real spitfire. Opinionated as hell, but able to pull off the role of the supportive significant other just as well as Meiran could. That's not to say she did, at least not unless there was some multi-million dollar deal going down that absolutely required someone to run interference for me. I think she thought it was like a big game then, and she had no problem acting like a vapid gun moll under those circumstances. Her words, not mine."

Heero noticed that Duo was sharing his opinion of others rather than revealing anything about himself, but in a way, that was almost as telling, especially as it gave Heero the opportunity to picture the people Duo surrounded himself with on a more personal level.

No additional information was forthcoming, and they fell into companionable silence. Heero's eyes drifted to the television where a black-and-white courtroom drama was unfolding.

Apparently Duo's did as well, for suddenly he said, with a touch of excitement in his voice, "I LOVE this movie!"

He didn't wait for Heero to respond; he merely leaned forward onto his stomach and gestured at the screen. "_Witness for the Prosecution_. Ever seen it?"

"I've read the book."

Duo grinned slightly, still facing the television. "Marlene Dietrich is absolutely phenomenal in this. Even though I've seen it before, I remain fascinated by the twists and turns in it. They don't make movies like this anymore."

They watched a bit of the movie, and Duo said, "so you know how it ends, then?"

"Yes."

"Dietrich is amazing," he said, then laughed. "Shit. I AM gay." He took a moment to ponder that stereotype before continuing. "Well, there are exceptions, I suppose. _Kismet_, for example. It was so bad, it was actually funny. We'll have to watch it someti-"

Duo realized his mistake immediately and focused all of his attention on the television, hoping that Heero was doing the same.

The movie reached its climactic conclusion half an hour later. During the end credits, Duo gathered up the courage to comment on the movie. "Now that's dedication. Can you imagine anyone going to the lengths Christine did for the man she loved? Could you ever be that devoted to someone?"

The question was rhetorical, and by 'you' Duo meant people in general.

Which was why he was stunned when he heard a very soft, "yes."

* * *

Heero wondered if Duo had bitten off his comment because he realized the implications and regretted them, or because he'd actually been looking beyond the current situation.

It had actually caused a little curl of warmth in his belly until Duo realized what he was saying and forced himself to watch the movie without further comment.

He'd been surprised when Duo spoke at the end of the movie, but more surprised when he'd responded to a question for which Duo had obviously expected no answer.

They were both more than a bit discomfited at the moment. Perhaps that put them on equal footing.

So who was going to make the first move?

He was a man of action, primarily, and although he was more than capable of exhibiting patience, and often had to do so to excruciating lengths, that didn't mean he had to like it.

He stood up and walked to the bedroom, unbuttoning his shirt as he went.

Duo watched him go. Heero was worse than a Rubik's cube. First it was like struggling to get one side all the same color. Then, if you managed to get three sides the same color, it still left the other three jumbled. In order to successfully resolve the puzzle as a whole, you needed to give up the sides that were already solved.

But he felt that there were far more satisfying things to do with his hands than manipulating a multicolored cube.

He discarded his own shirt before following Heero into the bedroom.

* * *

They watched each other undress, standing at opposite sides of the bed. Heero slid the shirt off his shoulders and let it drop as far as his wrists before catching it and tossing it to one side. His hands slowly unfastened his pants first, his fingers almost caressing his groin as he slid the zipper down. Duo imagined feeling Heero through the dark gray silk, and his own slacks grew tighter.

His fingers fumbled and he wanted nothing more than to tear the button from his waistband, but he managed to open the front of his pants. He gave into temptation and touched himself as Heero slipped out of his slacks and into the bed, completely naked. He stretched out on his side, propping himself up on one elbow and resting his opposite hand on the front of his thigh.

Duo managed to not embarrass himself by stumbling as he hurriedly pulled his pants off and practically tore his underwear from his body before joining Heero on the bed.

He stared at Heero's face. That had been missing the night before. He'd realized how very beautiful Heero was when they'd wrestled in the hall, but when they actually had sex, Heero had been on his hands and knees.

Duo may have experienced sex with a man the previous evening, but tonight he wanted to experience it with _Heero_.

He reached out one hand and tentatively cupped Heero's cheek. He ran his thumb along Heero's lips and jaw. His body trembled violently when Heero's tongue licked his lips, briefly brushing Duo's thumb as he did so.

He moved his entire body closer to Heero and moved his hand to the back of his head, gently massaging the nape of Heero's neck. Heero's eyes closed halfway, and Duo moved closer, leaving only a few inches between their bodies. He leaned forward to capture Heero's lips with his.

And once again, Heero avoided the contact. Strike three.

Duo would have screamed in frustration if Heero hadn't moved his lips to the pulse of Duo's neck and nuzzled him.

Not a strike, then. Ball.

He allowed himself to let go of his disappointment and anger at Heero's refusal to kiss him, and simply enjoyed the feeling of Heero's breath and tongue against his skin. His insides were quivering.

Sex with Hilde had often involved foreplay, but he couldn't ever remember feeling this close to orgasm with so little physical contact.

He wondered about the effects of testosterone and pheromones. Was there a synergistic effect? Was it possible for two men to feed off each other's desire in a way that wasn't possible between a man and a woman? He supposed he really didn't care why he was responding to Heero this way, reveling instead in the fact that he was.

He tilted his head back and shuddered as Heero's hair tickled his chin.

Heero's hand had moved to Duo's hip, and Duo returned the favor, pulling himself closer so their bodies were flush from chest to groin. At the moment, he almost didn't care if it was just a job to Heero, because he'd never felt so incredibly turned on in his life. He hooked one of his legs around Heero's, and rolled Heero onto his back. He stared down at Heero, whose eyes were completely open now.

"Heero," he rasped. "I want to..." make love to you. Make you mine. See your face when I make you come. He could say none of those things, not wanting to get carried away in the heat of the moment. He'd made the mistake of telling Hilde he loved her once during a rather intense climax, and it had created a world of problems between them afterwards.

Of course, there were other benefits of being intimate with another man. Men tended to have fewer expectations. They expected less after a bout of intense sex, knew that things were often uttered as a result of passion, not emotion. But he couldn't bring himself to say them anyway.

Heero's eyes lit with understanding, and that just about caused Duo to feel as if he were drowning in them. He reached for the nightstand drawer, missing it a few times before Duo opened it for him and pulled out the necessary items.

Duo couldn't prep him fast enough, but he forced himself to take it slow until it became obvious Heero wanted it as much as he did. Duo didn't think he was going to make it. He tried to calm his breathing, but his hands were shaking so badly he doubted his ability to get the condom on, but Heero took care of that, too.

Duo couldn't keep his eyes open as he slid into Heero. He felt a lump in his throat that threatened to choke him as he ran both hands along Heero's legs, caressing the backs of Heero's knees with his thumbs. Heero's body jerked, and Duo wanted to rejoice. He opened his eyes and gazed at Heero's face, dark lashes against his cheek. Who knew that was one of Heero's erogenous zones?

He was fucking Heero, and it was so _fucking_ hot, he didn't think he'd last more than a few strokes. He silently prayed that Heero would come first.

Then he realized that he might have more control over that than he'd thought, and he took matters into his own hands as far as Heero's needs were concerned.

"Duo..." the name escaped as a sigh.

He leaned forward and placed both hands on the bed on either side of Heero, then Duo gasped Heero's name as he followed the other man into completion.

After he'd disposed of the condom and Heero had cleaned himself up, they seemed reluctant to touch each other. Both of them were on their backs staring at the ceiling, but the distance between them didn't seem quite so vast this time.

tbc


	23. Fugue

****

The Edulcoration of Duo Maxwell - 23/?

~~~~~~~

Warnings: AU, yaoi, coarse language, violence, angst, citrusy situations, suggestive dialog, _significant_ (read that as major, MAJOR) deviation from Pretty Woman script as I see fit. Gratuitous insertion of red herrings throughout. Excessive use of flashbacks.

__

Edulcorate (verb) - To free from harshness (as of attitude); to soften

~~~~~~~

****

NOTE ON CHAPTER 22: I don't know what happened when I loaded Chapter 21, but for some reason it appeared twice, and Chapter 22 was actually a second Chapter 21, _Día de Los Muertos_. If you have NOT read **Chapter 22, _Contact_**, which includes what happened after they left the art gallery, please go back and read it now, otherwise you will have missed quite a bit and this chapter will not have the same impact.

~~~~~~~

****

Chapter 23 - Fugue

__

//"I hate my name," she announced out of the blue.

"Why is that?"

"Just don't like it. It's ugly."

"I think it's a beautiful name. It means 'hope.'"

"Bleah. Gag me," she stuck two fingers in her mouth to illustrate her disgust.

She eyed him speculatively, one of those looks that he just knew meant she was plotting something.

"Hope, huh?"

"Yes."

"Well, 'Niiiiisaaaan," she said, rubbing her chin thoughtfully. "YOU have a Japanese nickname. Perhaps I need one, too."

"You're not Japanese," he pointed out.

She laughed. "Neither are you, remember? 'I was BORN here. That makes ME an American.'"

She had him there. She knew it, too.

"So tell, me, 'Niisan, if 'hope' is so darn pretty, how do you say it in Japanese?"

"Depends on the exact meaning of 'hope' you're looking for. Esupowaaru, hoopu, nozomi..."

She wrinkled her nose in disgust again. "Those are even worse! Esp-oh-war-oo? And hoopu? You're making that one up!" The gagging gesture was back, and he laughed lightly.

"How about koumyou?"

"'Niisan!"

Her annoyance had him getting into the game a bit more. This time he provided a brief explanation of each word.

"Kibou, aspiration. Omoi, desire. Kitai, anticipation. Sokai, cherished ho-"

"Back up. What was the last one?"

"Sokai."

"Before that."

"Kitai?"

"Kitty?"

"Kitai," he corrected.

"Kitty," she affirmed.

He laughed. "All right. Kitty."

He didn't tell her that he actually thought that, to him, the name Ichiru would have fit her best.//

~~~~~

Duo awoke slowly, feeling both tired and well rested. He was aware of something faintly tickling his hip.

He was lying on his side, and the tingling sensation turned out to be Heero's knuckles grazing his skin. Heero was lying on his back with his head facing to the right, away from Duo. His right elbow was bent and his forearm was across his eyes, but his left arm was outstretched toward Duo, causing the slight brush against Duo's body.

Duo propped himself up on his elbow and just looked at Heero, at the gentle rise and fall of his chest, at the way his bangs covered part of his arm and the way the sheet was draped over his lower body haphazardly. He was almost disappointed to see that Heero wasn't sporting any morning wood.

The slight movement caused by his repositioning made the hand at his hip twitch. Heero's fingers curled toward his palm and the brief physical connection they'd had was broken.

Duo reached for Heero's hand, but just as his fingers prepared to gently pry open Heero's hand, he thought better of his actions and slowly withdrew his own. He was afraid if he made contact, he might be tempted to act irrationally. At this point in time, he could not afford that weakness.

As a result of his preoccupation the day before, he'd gotten very little done, and he had a sinking feeling that Peacecraft had more in the wings than either he or Wufei suspected.

~~~~~

Meiran woke up to find Wufei already out of bed and in the kitchen. The smell of coffee brewing drew her to the kitchen.

Wufei was seated at the kitchen table, a mug at his left hand, a few papers strewn across the surface in front of him. He looked up as she entered and couldn't help but smile at her rumpled appearance, not all of which was due to sleep.

"Egomaniac," she said affectionately, leaning over to plant a kiss on his cheek. "Been up long?"

"Not long enough," he sighed, removing his glasses and rubbing his eyes tiredly. She glanced at the clock. It was four in the morning.

"Come back to bed," she said.

He managed to leer at her despite the tiredness in his eyes, and she smacked him on the back of the head.

"To SLEEP, you insatiable beast."

"You didn't seem to be complaining last night - ow!"

She had one of his ears pinched in her fingers. "I seem to remember this worked pretty damn well when your mother did it," she teased. "Now do I have to lead you all the way to bed by your ear, or are you coming quietly? And if you dare make one crack over my choice of words, this ear might not stay attached to your head."

He reached up and wrapped his fingers around her hand and squeezed lightly.

"I will attempt to provide my body with another opportunity to recharge," he said, his eyes teasing but his tone serious.

"Good. I might have uses for that body of yours later tonight," she said with a light nip on his ear before releasing it.

Wufei was looking forward to that evening with a mix of excitement and trepidation, and he decided that perhaps it would be a very good idea to allow himself a sufficient amount of sleep while he had the opportunity. He was reasonably certain he could afford the luxury of one more hour.

~~~~~

Duo stood under the shower, letting the warm water cascade over him. He was almost reluctant to wash the scent of Heero from his body, and he allowed himself a few minutes to relive the events of the night before.

He hadn't forgotten the tidbits of information he'd gleaned from Heero, nor the man who had confronted Heero at the gallery, but for the moment, he was content to let the water rinse away the confusing parts of the previous day, leaving him feeling slightly euphoric.

It wouldn't last, but he was going to enjoy it while it did.

~~~~~

Quatre woke up to an empty apartment as he had for the past five nights. Had it been that long since he'd practically shoved Heero in the direction of that Ferrari?

He had known the moment he saw it that something was going to come of it. He optimistically hoped that it was a positive 'something,' and had also known that, of the two of them, Heero was the one better equipped to handle it.

If he'd known that Heero wouldn't have come back that night, he might have thought twice about his actions.

He'd been certain, when he lost all that money in the poker game that night, that they wouldn't need to worry about coming up with the rent money. He hadn't the slightest clue where these funds were magically going to come from, but he'd known all the same.

The envelope Heero had left for him at the Regent Beverly Wilshire reception desk had been the relief they'd needed, and yet he wondered if it was worth the price being paid.

He hated waking up alone. He and Heero had their own bedrooms, if the tiny closet-sized spaces could be considered 'rooms,' but it had been reassuring, having another presence in the apartment. He missed that sense of belonging, and then berated himself for it. He'd given that up to come to California, after all, hadn't he?

He suspected, as he had when he'd first met Heero, that perhaps the two of them were more alike than most people assumed.

Maybe Trowa would be at the bar earlier than usual. He liked to have things ready for the increased business that the weekend brought and was meticulous about being prepared.

Quatre decided to take a shower and head over there. He could use the company right about now.

~~~~~

Heero was on the border between sleep and wakefulness, and he was currently reliving the previous afternoon when he'd given Duo a backrub as he pored over the documents he was holding.

It triggered a long forgotten memory, and the recipient of his massage morphed into a figure seated at a computer instead of an armchair. The hair was much darker, and was half pinned to her head with the rest of it trailing down her back.

__

//"GOD, Yuy, that feels too damn good. You really have magic hands, you know. And I'm not just saying that because you could snap my neck right now."

He smiled slightly and increased the pressure he was using to knead the tight knots of muscle in her neck and shoulders. She groaned as he found a particularly stubborn one.

"Damn," she repeated. "Marry me and do this to me every night."

He shook his head, even though she couldn't see. "What about your boyfriend?" he teased lightly.

"The title is far too generous," she said derisively. "And said 'boyfriend' is a major jackass, no pun intended," she added, letting her head slump forward and closing her eyes.

"You're not going to get much work done with your eyes closed," he pointed out.

"Fuck work," she said, sighing blissfully as his hands moved to another mound of tension.

"You don't mean that," he said.

"No," she sighed. "I don't. You know me too well."//

~~~~~

He drifted further into REM sleep. The dream transitioned from that not-so-distant memory to another. One from another time. A younger, more carefree time, when it had still seemed as if the world just might be his oyster.

~~~~~

__

//"When we get married, 'Niisan," she said. "I want to go someplace tropical."

It had become her mantra, a symbol of better times to come. 'When we get married' was a euphemism referring to some undefined turning point in their future. After she graduated. After he came home from wherever he was heading off to this time. A utopian, unattainable future, something like winning the lottery. Possible, but not very probable. She still said it whenever she was feeling particularly stressed, although it had taken him a while to recognize the correlation between those words being uttered and the level of tension she felt.

"What about Elmo?" he asked, referring to her 'boyfriend du jour.'

"Eldon, you jerk," she said, swatting him lightly. "I think you owe me for that," she said, turning her back to him and lifting her hair from her neck pointedly.

He sighed. He never should have given her that first neck massage, because it had become his penance every time he pissed her off, and sometimes she'd look for a reason to make him do it.

No matter how flimsy the reason she gave, he always gave in. He enjoyed seeing the tension ebb from her body, tension that he hated to admit he didn't always recognize, despite their closeness. He liked knowing he was responsible for removing the weariness she felt at times. Liked the feeling that he was making her world a little bit brighter somehow.

His hands went to work immediately. "Tropical, you say?"

"Mmmm."

"Rather uninspired, don't you think?"

She peeked at him from beneath the cascade of hair she was holding. "Uninspired?"

"Everyone goes someplace tropical for their honeymoon. It's trite."

"I'll give you my fist 'trite' upside the head in a minute," she threatened. "OW!"

"You're too tense," he said. "Stop fighting me."

"I wouldn't fight you if you weren't so damn bullheaded."

"Watch your mouth," he chastised.

"I'm not ten anymore, 'Niisan," she said. "I think I'm old enough to cuss now and then."

"I think I'd like to go someplace adventurous," he said thoughtfully. "Like rock climbing or bungee jumping or bull fighting."

"Now THERE'S a romantic honeymoon," she said sarcastically. "Nothing like taking your life in your hands to get that adrenaline rush. Not very complimentary for the bride."

"But if you're my bride, I'm already taking my life into my hands."

"You're a real asshole, 'Niisan, anyone ever tell you that?"

He finished rubbing her back and planted a light kiss on the top of her head.

"All the time."//

~~~~~

When Duo walked out of the bathroom, he glanced at the bed, expecting to find it empty.

He was surprised to see Heero in the center of the bed, clutching one of the pillows to his chest. The sheets were hopelessly twisted around his legs.

Duo was filled with an indescribable emotion at the sight, and he took two steps toward the bed before reminding himself that he'd already let too much time go by without making any real progress on the Peacecraft deal.

Maybe Wufei's Janet had come up with some pertinent information by now. He was ready to be grateful if she'd found some traffic violations, at the rate things were going, but he was more inclined to believe Wufei was merely grasping at straws.

He supposed he should have stayed at the office yesterday instead of leaving early, but he knew that he had been too wound up to get anything done. It had seemed that Wufei was in much the same predicament after Meiran's phone call. If they'd stayed and tried to work, they'd either have fed off each other's anxiety or killed each other, and it was unlikely that they'd have gotten anything constructive done.

Then again, what did he know. Wufei seemed to be full of surprises lately.

~~~~~

__

//...the blood flowed from her body, looking like a crimson storm, as the convenience store manager just stood there, shrugging his shoulders. "Kids these days," he said.

Her life force was leaving her, and no one was doing a thing to stop the bleeding. He tried to reach her, tried to stop what he knew was inevitable, but there were too many people in the way, blocking his access.

Despite the growing crowd, he could see her eyes, open and glassy and staring at nothing, her mouth open as if she had attempted to cry for help at the end.

And the blood...so much blood...//

~~~~~

"NO!" Heero woke to the sound of the cry forced from his lips and sat up abruptly. His hands were shaking and he brought them to his face slowly, staring at them as if they belonged to someone else.

When Duo came to the door to see what the commotion was, Heero had his face in his hands. His fingertips were buried in his hair.

"Heero?" he asked, his voice hesitant, as if he weren't sure what his role was in this situation.

Heero glanced up from his hands and grimaced slightly. "Sorry," he said. "Banged my elbow on the headboard."

Duo looked at him and Heero wrapped his arms around himself, hoping that his body wasn't shaking as badly as it felt it was. He rubbed one of his elbows almost as an afterthought.

"I ordered a breakfast that should meet your dietary fiber requirements," Duo said, attempting to inject humor into the awkward silence that had fallen.

"Thank you."

"You...have enough time to take a shower, if you'd like, before it arrives," Duo offered, gesturing toward the bathroom.

Heero nodded, and waited for Duo to exit the bedroom before trusting himself to get out of bed. He nearly fell to the floor before realizing his legs were entangled in the sheets.

He made his way to the bathroom unsteadily and ran the water as hot as he could tolerate it. Once the shower spray was on, he stepped under it and turned the cold down just a fraction more.

He had to wash off all the blood.

The worst part was, he hadn't even been there when she died.

tbc


	24. The Purple Dodge

****

The Edulcoration of Duo Maxwell - 24/?

~~~~~~~

Note: This fic was written in response to Nova Una's challenge to the 1x2ML to write a Gundam Wing/Pretty Woman fusion fic with Heero in the Julia Roberts role and Duo in the Richard Gere role.

Warnings: AU, yaoi, coarse language, violence, angst, citrusy situations, suggestive dialog, _significant_ (read that as major, MAJOR) deviation from Pretty Woman script as I see fit. Gratuitous insertion of red herrings throughout.

Spoilers: None for GW, quite a bit for Pretty Woman.

Disclaimer: I don't really need to be Captain Obvious here, do I? No ownership, no money being made, yadda yadda. Written for fun, not profit.

Edulcorate (verb) - To free from harshness (as of attitude); to soften

~~~~~~~

Chapter 24 - The Purple Dodge

Quatre was in the process of turning off the shower when he felt the water scald his skin. He yelped in surprise and fumbled for the faucet handle. Once it was off, he froze in place as he realized that his skin was practically burning, but the water temperature had been normal. Cooler, in fact, than when he'd gotten in the shower, but their hot water supply had never been the greatest.

He wrapped a towel around his body and examined his skin. It looked completely normal, no reddening or blistering.

What the hell had that been all about?

He also felt a keening sense of loss for some inexplicable reason, and thought perhaps he might ask Trowa, beg him if he had to, for something to drink when he got to the bar.

And he wasn't thinking of something as innocuous as a cup of tea.

~~~~~

If Duo noticed that Heero's skin looked unnaturally flushed after the shower, he said nothing.

"I don't think I can afford a repeat of yesterday," Duo said cautiously, referring to his playing hooky.

Heero grunted in acknowledgement, inwardly cringing at his return to monosyllabic gutteral sounds as a form of communication. He just wasn't quite ready. Ready for what, he wasn't sure, but he knew _his_ broken pencil structure had no epoxy holding it together.

'My life is a Jenga puzzle,' he thought, and couldn't help the rueful smile that played about his lips.

Duo wasn't sure what had caused, what he supposed passed for, a grin on Heero's face, but it made him feel a bit better. He wasn't sure what was going on with Heero, but he knew there was a lot more to the man than even he had originally suspected.

"Wufei and I are going to be trying to shepherd things in our favor," he said, taking a sip of coffee.

"Hmmm," Heero replied absently. He was buttering his toast, and Duo didn't think he'd ever seen Heero use more than the thinnest layer of butter, but the bread was covered with what looked like a mountain of spackle.

Heero noticed when he took a bite and grimaced at the mouthful of butter he got as a result.

"Lubrication inside and out, I suppose?" Duo said.

Heero looked at him in shock, then started laughing. It was almost creepy, the way someone might laugh if they were either screwing you over or losing their mind, but it was the most honest emotion Heero had shown to Duo, outside of anger and lust.

Then that soft smile Heero had worn when Duo found him on the balcony was back, and Duo wanted to curse Peacecraft for dragging out this entire acquisition.

Despite his frustration with the progression of things on that front, he couldn't help but smile in return.

"I suppose I'd better go face the music," he sighed, draining his coffee cup and wincing at the bitter taste it left. He grabbed his jacket and slid both arms into it hurriedly.

While he was pulling his braid out of the back of his jacket, Heero stood and walked over to him, then smoothed the jacket's lapel and fixed Duo's collar before moving to the cuffs of his shirt which were poking out the bottom of the jacket sleeves.

Duo inhaled deeply. Heero HAD been using his conditioner. Part of him wanted to bury his face into those impossibly thick locks of hair. He stepped back a bit abruptly, leaving Heero with a slightly puzzled look on his face.

"Don't wait up," he said with a wink. He grabbed his cell phone and left the suite.

Heero stared after him blankly, then snapped himself out of the momentary daze.

The run-in with Alvarez had served one useful purpose. It reminded him that today was Friday.

He supposed it would be only fitting that he use Duo's computer. After all, that's where he'd seen the photo of Duo with that woman.

It seemed that photo had been prophetic, in a sense. He'd thought he was safely hidden away, but it seemed that his past was a rather tenacious bastard.

Sparrow on a string, he thought, then frowned. Where had he heard that before?

Before he wasted time pondering riddles, he had to take care of business first.

Duo's computer was already up and running, as he'd half expected. He sat down and went through an elaborate series of reroutes and false ISP addresses to hide the laptop's identity and location, then made his phone call.

~~~~~

By the time Quatre arrived at The Bar, he was feeling much better, and suspected that a lot of his turmoil had to do with being alone in the apartment. At least he was hoping that was the cause of his episode this morning.

He could have kissed Trowa, he was that relieved to see the man unlocking the front door just as the bar came into sight.

"Trowa!" he called happily, and the brunette patiently waited for him before opening the door and flicking on the lights.

"Need me to do anything?"

Trowa looked at him oddly, then went behind the bar and squatted down to rummage for something underneath the shelves of alcohol. He reappeared and handed a box of cleaning supplies to the blond.

"The bathroom could use cleaning," he said.

Quatre had a feeling this was a punishment of sorts, but he had asked, and he was sure that the bathroom did, in fact, need cleaning.

He took the box and sighed. He supposed it still beat feeling sorry for himself at the apartment.

~~~~~

Wufei was starting to regret listening to Meiran and going back to bed, despite how good it had felt to spoon himself behind her and wrap his arms around her. He'd nuzzled her neck until she'd lifted one of his hands to her mouth and bit him.

"Sleep," she'd ordered, and he had.

She'd turned off the alarm clock and he'd woken two hours later. Physically, he was feeling as if the extra sleep had done him good, but mentally, he was tightly wound as he realized he hadn't even checked to see if any other companies besides the one in Nevada were investigating Peacecraft.

Duo had better not flake out on him this morning the way he had the day before.

~~~~~

Heero disconnected his call and blew his bangs out of his eyes. He was set for another week.

He looked around the suite and took in the evidence of Duo that was everywhere. Duo's computer. Duo's empty coffee cup. Duo's shirt from the night before, thrown aside carelessly. He walked over to the discarded garment and picked it up.

He should have been horrified to find himself bringing it to his face and breathing in Duo's scent, but he was beginning to get used to the way things didn't go the way he'd expected them to. The shirt bunched in his hands briefly before he dropped it to the loveseat.

Maybe this would be the last week he'd actually need to make that call. He looked around the suite again.

He was almost sure of it.

~~~~~

Duo was surprised to see Wufei leaning against his desk with his arms crossed.

"What's wrong with your desk?" he asked, throwing his briefcase on the small conference table in the middle of the room.

"We are running out of time, Duo."

"Think I don't know that?" Duo ran a hand over his face. "I just have this feeling I'm missing something. Something big."

"Something that will come back and bite you in the ass, then me, if you don't figure it out soon."

"Maybe I just need something to trigger my memory," he said.

"Fine. Go see what Janet has found. The girl works well as a sounding board, if you're so inclined."

  
Duo stared at Wufei in amazement. Had Wufei actually carried conversations with the girl?

He supposed he was curious. She had seemed remarkably competent. Maybe something she said just might help him remember that elusive piece he knew he needed before it was too late.

~~~~~

"It's true," the blonde insisted. "It's the Purple Dodge Syndrome!"

"The Purple Dodge Syndrome," the redhead replied. "Janet, you're losing me."

Janet was frowning at the radio again, hitting one button after another trying to find something that didn't set her nerves on edge.

"OK. Ever learn a new word?"

"All the time," Nadia said. Janet looked over to see if she was being sarcastic, but as usual, her face was a blank slate.

"Well, don't you notice that after you learn it, all of a sudden it seems like EVERYONE is using it?"

Nadia nodded. She'd grant her that.

"It's not that everyone else just learned it at the same time you did. It's that it was there all the time, but you just didn't know it, because you didn't understand it and therefore it didn't stick with your conscious mind.

"BUT...now that your eyes, or your mind, has been opened to the word, it clicks, and you recognize it and appreciate it. Even notice if it's used inappropriately."

She finally gave up on the radio and scowled at it before plopping in her seat and pulling a wrist support out of her desk drawer. She turned on her computer and spun her chair around as she fastened the velcro on her brace.

Nadia didn't know if she should ask. Damn it, Janet had her curious now.

  
"What does this have to do with a Purple Dodge?"

"Ever seen a purple Dodge? The car, I mean?"

It sounded like a childhood poem for a moment, and Nadia blinked a few times.

"Can't say I have seen _any_ purple cars."

"Go out and buy one."

Nadia's snort was unintentional this time, but Janet's was not.

"I don't mean to really go replace that Volvo of yours with a purple Dodge."

"It's not a Volvo. It's a Subaru."

"Whatever. Unimportant. Don't get lost looking at the trees, my friend."

Nadia rolled her eyes, already regretting she'd asked.

Janet seemed content to take her time.

"If you were to go out and buy a purple Dodge tomorrow, I guarantee you'd notice them more."

"I think I'd notice a purple car of any kind if I saw one."

"But you'd pay more attention to it, because you'd have one. How many Subarus do you notice now that you own one?"

Nadia couldn't believe she was actually listening to this, but Janet did have her moments of brilliance.

More than just moments, she grudgingly admitted.

"Don't look now," she muttered. "Sex god, three o'clock."

Janet's head whirled to her left and she brightened as she saw Duo standing there.

"You should be an infiltration expert," she said, smiling at him broadly.

"I don't think your theory will work with Wufei's car," he said, returning the smile.

"Well," Janet said, "that's only because it's practically a custom made vehicle. The odds of seeing one of them are smaller than of seeing a purple Dodge." She shot a look at Nadia. "And if you owned one, you WOULD see another one. Maybe not right away, but you WOULD."

"Well, I sure as hell wouldn't beep and wave at the other color blind driver," Nadia retorted.

"I found this so far," Janet said, handing a file folder about half an inch thick to Duo.

He'd almost forgotten why he'd shown up. He leafed through the pages, seeing that she had found a lot of legal activity, but nothing useful. Maybe Wufei could see something he couldn't. He'd bring it to the conference room with him.

"How did you ladies end up discussing purple cars?"

Nadia's look clearly said 'ASK HER.' She turned to her computer and powered it on.

"Songs," Janet said.

Duo was beginning to see why Wufei sent him to her. She made remarkable leaps of logic to connect two different topics.

But she didn't expect him to understand what that had to do with anything. She explained.

"I am suddenly, painfully, aware of the existence of all these 'love, you done me wrong' songs," she said, her brows furrowing slightly. "It's not that there are any more now that I've had my heart stomped on, but now I notice them more, because they've become personal to me. Hence, the Purple Dodge Syndrome." She glanced up at him and Duo thought she was going to wink at him. "How much of our conversation did you overhear this time?"

"Enough," he said. The girl seemed completely unperturbed that just yesterday she'd been caught discussing him as a potential bed partner.

He thought it likely that her ex-boyfriend was an idiot.

"Thanks," he said, waving the folder at her as he left the two of them.

"GOD, that hair," he heard her sigh as he rounded the corner.

~~~~~

A woman with curly auburn hair rapped her knuckles on the surface of the bar. Trowa, who was lying on his back fixing one of the soda lines, greeted her without getting up.

"Cathy, what are you doing here?"

She laughed. "How'd you know it was me?"

"No one else would calmly walk in here as if they owned the place."

At that moment Quatre came out of the bathroom, a pair of latex gloves on his hands. "Trowa," he began, then stopped when he spotted the woman leaning on the bar.

"The only one, hmmm?" she asked, looking at Quatre speculatively.

"Be nice," the voice said, this time low enough so only she could hear it.

"Where do you keep the liquid soap?" Quatre finally asked. "One of the dispensers is empty."

"It's in the closet next to the sink," Cathy said. "Trowa keeps the key in the register."

Quatre looked ill at ease, but walked over to the bar and proceeded to carry out the procedure of whacks and thuds necessary to get the drawer to open. He reached in and withdrew the key. With one last nervous look at Cathy, he returned to the bathroom.

Trowa had finished with the soda lines and stood up, wiping his hands on a rag he'd stuffed in his pocket.

His look dared her to say something, but she sighed instead.

"Have you given any thought to what I said?" she asked, changing the subject that had been forbidden by his warning look.

"I told you my decision," he said. "I have a new job now."

"Are you _happy_ working here?" she pressed. "Really happy?"

"Cathy," he said, his eyes darkening.

"Trowa," she returned, before sighing again. She tilted her head in the direction of the bathroom.

"He's taking advantage of you," she said.

"How would you know? You don't even know him," he said, his tone rising in volume only slightly, but enough to let her know that he was not pleased with her.

"He knows how to open the register, Trowa? You're too trusting!" As soon as the words were out, she slapped a hand over her mouth in horror.

He looked at her coldly. "Not anymore, Cathy. I told you, I will not be stupid enough to entrust my back to others."

She closed her eyes and fought the urge to scream at him.

"It's not the same everywhere," she said. "Look at where I am-"

"Yes, Cathy, let's look at it. You just transferred to this district. Wait a while. You'll see that everyone has a hidden agenda, and if you get in the way, or you don't conform to what they view as 'normal,' it'll be _your_ neck on the chopping block. Someone has to be the sacrificial lamb. Keep your nose clean and make sure it's not you."

There were so many things she wanted to say, but didn't dare. He wasn't going to listen to her right now.

"I'll be back tomorrow," she said. He nodded.

As soon as she left, Quatre poked his head out of the bathroom door. "Trowa?"

"You can come out now, Quatre," he said. He was gritting his teeth. Cathy's words had made him think about things he hadn't wanted to think about in a while. Sometimes, when he and Quatre and Heero were sitting around talking, he felt that all three of them had something in common, although he had never been able to place what it was. This felt like one of those times, even though Heero was absent.

He looked at Quatre, who was running a finger along a circle worn into the bar's finished surface from countless glasses sitting there without coasters.

He could tell something was bothering him. Maybe he would get out of his own blue funk if he could do something about Quatre's.

"Quatre," he said. "You've got to stop throwing the games and letting Otto win."

Quatre's head snapped up and his mouth dropped open.

"I do no such thing," he said, but the panic in his eyes told Trowa that he'd been right on the money.

"Quatre," he said gently. "You should be saving your money. You're too smart to be doing...this..." he gestured around the bar and toward the bathroom.

To his surprise, Quatre's look turned feral.

"You don't know anything about me!" he shouted. "Nothing! You might think you do, but you don't!" He swept his arm to the side, shoving the box he'd set on the counter hard enough to send it sliding across the bar and onto the floor. The sound of the cleaning supplies crashing to the ground seemed to set him off even more.

"And who the HELL are you, anyway, to tell me what to do?"

With that, he stormed out of the bar for the second time in two days.

Trowa watched the door slam behind Quatre without flinching.

"No one at all," he said quietly. He shook his head. "No one at all."

tbc


	25. Emergence

****

The Edulcoration of Duo Maxwell - 25/?

~~~~~~~

Warnings: AU, yaoi, coarse language, violence, angst, citrusy situations, suggestive dialog, _significant_ (read that as major, MAJOR) deviation from Pretty Woman script as I see fit. Gratuitous insertion of red herrings throughout.

Spoilers: None for GW, and I'm starting to suspect not all that many for Pretty Woman, either.

Disclaimer: I don't really need to be Captain Obvious here, do I? No ownership, no money being made, yadda yadda. Written for fun, not profit.

Archived at:   
  
(under pen name MookieNH)

__

Edulcorate (verb) - To free from harshness (as of attitude); to soften

~~~~~~~

****

Chapter 25 - Emergence

Heero decided he might as well enjoy the use of 'his' portable computer while he had the opportunity. He had a couple of hours still, and he had wanted to check a few things beforehand.

He bit his lip as he tried to remember all the things he'd wanted to investigate. If he'd been home, he'd have written it all down, but he couldn't leave any evidence for Duo to find.

And which home would you be referring to, Yuy?

Despite the twisting feeling in his gut as he tried to sort through his feelings, he felt incredibly pleased as he maneuvered the cursor with his finger cuff 'mouse.' He'd always wanted to see if it would work. The only thing left was to see if the device withstood the test of time. Chances were good that it would face use in less than ideal conditions at a later time.

He barely noted that his thoughts had indicated a definite plan for his future as he clicked on the first search result.

~~~~~

Quatre slammed the door to the apartment behind him and then turned and punched it for good measure.

He winced as he drew his hand back, but decided to hit it two more times before going to the bathroom to clean his bloodied knuckles.

He was a first class jerk. Not Trowa, but himself.

He genuinely liked the quiet bartender. Trowa always reserved judgement, and had never once treated Quatre like a whore. It was almost like he understood more than he let on, although Quatre had never been able to figure Trowa out in return.

The fact that Trowa often seemed a blank slate to him never bothered him, though. He'd actually enjoyed getting to know Trowa without all that interference that cropped up without warning. It did seem worse the closer he was to a person, though, but he sometimes felt normal when he was around Trowa.

He cringed slightly as he applied antiseptic to the back of his hands. He had never been normal.

He'd bonded with Heero almost from the start. Although Heero had seemed to want to be left alone, Quatre had recognized a kindred spirit. He never questioned Heero, but there had been times when it seemed as though his roommate had managed to obtain a sense of peace that was missing from his soul most of the time.

Usually that happened when they were at the bar.

In some ways, he supposed Heero had reminded him of Trowa, and in others, he couldn't imagine two people less alike.

He sighed. He'd been an idiot. He tore off a long strip of gauze with his teeth and wrapped it around his hand several times, tucking the end underneath and going into the kitchen.

He wanted Heero back. He felt like he was coming apart at the seams, and he needed Heero's presence to keep him grounded.

He opened the refrigerator to find something to drink, but stared into it without taking anything out.

He'd been incredibly selfish the entire time he'd known Heero, and he'd regretted a lot of things, but he still considered the man a friend. He sometimes felt the feeling might be reciprocated, but not often enough to know for certain.

He missed having Heero around almost as much as he missed seeing Iria.

He slammed the refrigerator door shut and sat heavily in one of the mismatched kitchen chairs. He leaned back and threw one arm over his face.

He'd been avoiding Iria. He knew that something was gnawing at her, but he couldn't handle the waves of anxiety he knew he'd get if he talked to her. He also didn't want to hear her pleas for him to return.

He wasn't ready to go back. Wondered if he could ever go back after what he'd been doing for the past year or so.

He was a horrible brother and a horrible friend.

He missed Heero. He missed Iria.

He even missed Trowa.

Shit.

~~~~~

Wufei practically flew into Duo's office shortly before lunch. Duo looked up with amusement.

"Where's the fire?"

"Duo!" Wufei's eyes practically bugged out of his head. "You talked to the man at the fucking festival and didn't think to mention it?"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Duo was starting to get angry, but he was also feeling a slight bit of panic. Wufei didn't curse any more than Meiran did. Not unless something really set them off.

"Duke Fucking Dermail, that's what! Janet found an inquiry from Zodiac into their assets. You know they hold a fucking grudge against us for what we did with their Wizard Industries!"

Duo closed his eyes. He would have been cursing just as much, if not more so, had he been in Wufei's shoes.

In fact, he'd have sworn he saw the swish of long blonde hair turn a corner. What were the odds it had been Dermail's creepy granddaughter? Or was his mind merely fabricating the whole thing? Maybe he'd just imagined the blonde hair as a result of his subconscious trying to help him identify that nagging feeling he'd had of something he'd missed. 

He had been rather distracted most of the evening, between seeing Heero's run-in with the Hispanic gentleman and just being near Heero most of the night. And to be honest, he hadn't given much thought to Dermail because he'd been distracted by Heero's abrupt departure, after Wufei had punched him.

He'd told Heero he didn't trust him, and he didn't, but for once, he'd almost hoped he might be wrong.

As for Wufei, the best defense was a good offense.

"How the hell do you know I saw Dermail, anyway? Weren't you busy getting chewed out by your wife?"

"She is amazingly concise," Wufei said, then sighed. Duo was surprised that the man wasn't jumping down his throat. Hell, he felt like he was on the wrong page of a script. He never should have stolen Wufei's car. This had to be some kind of divine justice for breaking the eighth commandment.

His mother would find the mess he'd gotten himself into rather fitting, he supposed.

"Duo?" Wufei's voice was softer, but still held that thread of frustrated anger.

He shook his head. "Hey, did anyone see him at the gallery last night?"

Wufei frowned, wondering what that had to do with anything. "Not that I know of. Something you want to tell me?"

"No," he admitted. "Just wondering if I'm losing my mind."

"We're going to lose a lot more than that if you don't get your head out of your ass. Your mind hasn't been on this deal ever since-"

"Since Hilde broke up with me, right?" Duo said menacingly.

Wufei's eyes narrowed, but he merely nodded. Then he removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers, the glasses dangling from his hand and catching the light.

Duo wondered how he could be so distracted that the little rainbows that reflected from the lenses and danced around the room could hold his attention when everything was going to hell in a hand basket.

"Wufei," Duo said finally. "Dermail seemed rather eager to curry favor when I saw him that day. That means that whatever he is up to, the iron wasn't in the fire then."

"Are you sure about that?"

Duo nodded. "Absolutely. It would be one thing if it were his granddaughter, the blonde Morticia, but he seems to rely on others to do his bullshitting for him. He was honestly trying to get me to rally behind him in case he needed us at a future date. Maybe Dorothy hadn't reported back to him yet."

Wufei sighed. "We'll get nowhere fighting amongst ourselves."

Duo wanted to point out that his partner was the one that had started it, but held his tongue.

"Let's go over the paperwork again. I've got Janet researching Romefeller's activities as we speak."

Duo spared one last thought to Wufei's paragon of information gathering, whom up until a day ago, he hadn't even known existed, let alone known her name. He nodded and turned back to his computer to access the files he had on Wizard, hoping something in the past would provide some answers to what was going on in the present.

~~~~~

Relena hated asking Pagan to drive her to the restaurant, but if he stayed behind, he'd be sure to tell Milliardo where she'd gone. He hadn't been out of earshot the entire time she'd been on the phone.

She was cursed with men who wanted to protect her, she supposed, but it wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Not always.

Despite that thought, she was nervous about her upcoming meeting. She'd been shocked to receive the phone call the previous evening, but after listening to what the caller had to say, she'd suggested a meeting to discuss it in person. It also gave her time to get her thoughts together.

She'd thought that an out of the way table would be best, but she'd been advised instead to make reservations for a table along a wall, but one not obviously secluded. Being secreted away in the shadows would imply that there was something to hide, but a table along the wall yet in the open would minimize the number of diners nearby that could overhear, but it would not look suspicious.

Relena could only hope that the answers to some of the riddles that had plagued her since Dermail's visit would be forthcoming by the end of this lunch rendezvous.

She didn't recognize the party she was meeting at first. When the individual arrived at her table, she was preparing to politely explain that there must be some mistake. Then the person greeted her, and there was no mistaking that voice.

"Relena."

tbc

~~~~~

I am curious to see who everyone suspects Relena is meeting, but I doubt I'll find out before the next chapter is posted, because I really don't want to wait that long to get going on it! It should make its debut in the near future.

~~~~~

CuriousDreamWeaver - I enjoy all your reviews. It's been a while since I've responded to any of them, but I wanted to let you know that I appreciate your taking the time to mention specifics in each chapter that caught your eye. I'm glad I've managed to get you sucked into Quatre's little mystery as well as the obvious ones that surround Heero. It's rewarding to know I've made him someone to be curious about!

holly - as always, your reviews are thorough and a joy to read. I think many of your questions and comments have already been addressed, and others will be in the future!

Merith - always a supreme compliment when I receive encouraging feedback from someone whose writing I've enjoyed. I knew as soon as I decided to tackle the fic challenge that I could not see Heero as remotely like the Julia Roberts character, and starting from that, I built up a past for him, which I've tried to stay true to. Duo is in for quite a rude awakening or two as well, but you'll be the judge of what those are! I hope to keep you entertained for some time to come, and thanks for taking the time to let me know you've enjoyed this.

Lana - thanks! Your last review was brief, but it was specific and that helps me pinpoint what aspects of the story are grabbing the readers.

Ruby Love - your opening comment was the most colorful compliment I've received to date, but I loved it all the same. I wanted to dance around the room when I read that you were nearly heartbroken over the situation with the nameless girl and that you loved my portrayal of Wufei and Meiran. I was really nervous the first time I gave Meiran any lines of dialog, but once I had her personality in my head, she has been a lot of fun to work with. Thank you for the detailed review. My heart sings!

Lucifer Marque de Forcee - ahhhh, well, time will tell, will it not? That (non)answer will apply to all your questions, but I'm glad you're sticking with the story to find out!

kcgal - I was in stitches reading about your allegiance to the 1x2 flag! Ahhh, the plot twists. Should I take a bow, or hide in case anything gets thrown at me? What? You don't like the guy speaking Spanish to Heero? (eyes wide open and blinking in expression of exaggerated innocence). OUCH! You _are_ dangerous with that stick! Of course I am thrilled that you are gaining snippets of knowledge in between the more explicit turns in the story. It's becoming a bit like Certs...two mints in one. Um, yeah.

Kanon - again, thanks for providing examples of the things that you pick up on in the fic. I'm so pleased that you like the little bits that add that...ooomph, I guess, to the story. Sometimes I sit down and consult my notes, and the story that surrounds one or two lines just flows...so I stick with it until I run out of steam...or need to eat...or feel that emotionally drained from a chapter that has sucked my heart and soul from me for a few minutes! I doubt I would be able to write as quickly if it felt like a chore. I'm having a lot of fun, and it's a pleasure to know that something I enjoy so much is entertaining to others.

Hope I didn't miss anyone. I did warn that I don't always respond to reviews right away, but I just got through a couple chapters in a relatively short span of time, as you may have noticed, so I am recharging my brain a bit. And my stomach!

~~~~~

Stay tuned...I'm almost as eager as you are for the revealing of Relena's lunch companion! (Any guesses? Anyone? Bueller?)


	26. Straw Man

****

The Edulcoration of Duo Maxwell - 26/?

~~~~~~~

Warnings: AU, yaoi, coarse language, violence, angst, citrusy situations, suggestive dialog, _significant_ (read that as major, MAJOR) deviation from Pretty Woman script as I see fit. Gratuitous insertion of red herrings throughout.

Spoilers: None for GW, quite a bit for Pretty Woman.

Disclaimer: I don't really need to be Captain Obvious here, do I? No ownership, no money being made, yadda yadda. Written for fun, not profit.

Archived at:  
  
and  
www.mediaminer.org (under pen name MookieNH)

__

Edulcorate (verb) - To free from harshness (as of attitude); to soften

~~~~~~~

****

Chapter 26 - Straw Man

"Heero," she greeted. "You look...different."

Heero touched his hair briefly before sitting at the table across from Relena. He'd remembered the contact lenses, but forgotten the hairpiece. He'd been too intent on doing the necessary research before their meeting, and had been anxiously downloading the information with one eye on the door, just in case Duo came back early after all. He set a large leather wallet on the table next to the silverware.

"It suits you," she said, saving him from having to come up with an excuse for his sudden change in appearance. He was wearing the pants she'd last seen him in and one of Duo's dress shirts, a collarless cinder gray shirt that still smelled faintly of the man, although that last bit she was unaware of.

"Shall we order first?" she said, gesturing to the menu in front of him.

He gave a curt nod in reply.

Once their orders were placed and their waiter gave them a few minutes alone, Relena took a sip of water. She set her glass down and leaned forward on her elbows. Heero was mildly surprised at the gesture, having expected her to do nothing that didn't conform to Miss Manners' Guide to Dining Etiquette.

She laced her fingers together and rested her chin on them, then met his gaze.

"I must say, I was surprised to hear from you last night."

He nodded again. He had been rather surprised himself when he'd taken advantage of Duo's nap to make the call, but he felt he had to do something after what he'd seen in the paperwork Duo was in possession of.

"You didn't give me much information," she said. "Other than you thought it would be...disastrous, I believe you said, if my brother were to consider a merger with Romefeller. How did you know he was considering that?"

"I didn't," he said. "I assumed it was a likely possibility, all things considered."

"I see." She lifted her chin from her hands and took another sip of water, waiting until their salads had been placed in front of them before continuing.

"You said you wanted some time to investigate a few things, which is why you could not meet with me yesterday."

That had been just as true as the main reason he couldn't meet with her - that he was already committed to attending the art showing with Duo.

"And you had mentioned some mysterious comments that were said to you yesterday," he replied.

Oh, please, her mind begged, please tell me you know what the hell Dorothy was talking about. 

"Yes."

~~~~~

The woman with light brown hair pulled her safety glasses off and slipped them into the pocket of her lab coat, then walked to the office she shared with her partner.

She was almost ecstatic to see a fax had arrived from Saint Rose Dominican Hospital on their secure line. She paged through the report and frowned. Something was missing. A big something.

It was not like Iria to be so careless.

She checked the time. Iria might be at lunch, considering the time difference. She'd call back in an hour to find out what had happened.

~~~~~

"I assume you've heard of Prozac, Paxil, Zoloft?"

"Of course."

"They are in a class of drugs known as selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors. A common side effect is sexual dysfunction."

Relena tried to keep her face neutral, but she had certainly not expected to be discussing the sex lives of depressed persons when she'd suggested this luncheon. His expression was severe, so she decided that he was going somewhere with this.

He pulled a palm pilot from the leather wallet and glanced down at it periodically as he explained the function of serotonin, a neurotransmitter, and a study that had been done on an unlikely side effect, one of 'disinhibited libido.'

Furthermore, he expressed concerns that the pharmaceuticals that Romefeller were set to mass-produce might be just a cover.

He stared at the screen in his hands for several seconds before continuing.

"Methylenedioxymethamphetamine," he said, "used to be employed as an aid to psychotherapy. In 1985, it was listed as a Schedule I drug, which includes opiates like heroin and hallucinogens such as LSD." His voice held a note of excitement. "The effects of MDMA in humans include feelings of increased emotional closeness, of _empathy_...toward others." He noted the slightly glazed look on her face and smiled softly.

"I'm sorry," he said. "You'd recognize methylenedioxymethamphetamine by its street name. Ecstasy. It, too, is considered a Schedule I drug, which are, by and large, those with a high potential for abuse and no medical usefulness. The risks of prescribing it outweighed any perceived benefit toward psychotherapy."

He took a bite of his lunch. As he chewed, Relena noticed a faraway look in his eyes. She admired his thoroughness. He'd obviously been very busy since she'd spoken to him yesterday.

"How good is your vocabulary?" he asked suddenly, breaking into her reverie.

She started, then smiled. "Pretty good, I'd say."

"Are you any good at etymology?"

"I'd like to think so."

His smile got almost imperceptibly wider. "Entheogen."

She mulled over the components of the word, then frowned. "Creating an inner god?"

He nodded encouragingly. "'Entheogenic' is replacing the word 'psychedelic' for that particular class of drugs." He sipped his water and then rested his arm on the table, looking at her intently.

"Disinhibited libido," he repeated his words from earlier. "Increased empathy. Rave or party drugs." His entire body seemed poised for flight as he leaned forward. "Disguised as antidepressants."

~~~~~

Janet was a whirlwind of activity, and Nadia finally got tired of seeing her tear through the office.

"Would you sit DOWN?"

"I can't," the blonde said, pausing in her pacing just long enough to open a plastic bound report, flip through a few pages, and toss it on the table before resuming her trek. "I think better on my feet."

Nadia sighed. "Can you spare five minutes? I need a cigarette."

Janet was about to remind her intern that she didn't smoke, but decided it wouldn't kill her to go outside to the 'butt hut' just this once.

They walked to a glass enclosed area resembling a bus stop set about a hundred yards from one of the entrances. The redhead lit up her cigarette just outside the shelter, then slid her lighter into the tiny pocket at her waist. She inhaled deeply and blew it out, away from Janet, then smirked slightly.

"You don't know what you're missing."

Janet wanted to retort that if by that, she was referring to reduced lung capacity, she knew quite well and wouldn't miss it one iota, but then Nadia's eyes flicked over to a group of men and women huddled together, talking.

Not talking. Gossiping.

Her eyes lit up, and Nadia smiled again before taking another drag from her cigarette.

~~~~~

The phone in her office rang, and the woman in the white lab coat glanced at the display screen. A 702 area code.

Iria.

She hit the speaker button, in case her partner showed up during the conversation. "Po."

"Sally!" Iria's breathless voice came over the speakers. "I was hoping I caught you before you started to think I'd lost my touch."

Sally grimaced slightly, as she had suspected something along those lines. "I was meaning to call you," she said.

"I know," Iria sighed. "I wouldn't blame you. My father is ready to risk our entire family fortune, and my brother is out there somewhere, falling prey to who knows what..."

"Iria," Sally interrupted gently. "I know that you have a lot of things going on right now, but haven't you always told me that Quatre had a good head on his shoulders?"

"Yes, but-"

"And haven't you also said how proud you were that he stood up for what he believed in, even though he knew it was unpopular?"

"Yes..."

Sally smiled. "And the reason he ran away from home is because he would not pretend to be something he wasn't?"

Iria laughed, albeit reluctantly. "Yes, yes, yes. Quatre is a strong individual. You're right. I can't see him getting sucked into the world of illicit drug use. Not on purpose."

The reason for their conversation.

"Tell me, Iria."

The doctor sighed deeply. "The information that's missing...that's not a mistake. I didn't just forget to include it because I'm letting my personal concerns interfere with my profession. I didn't include it because..." she trailed off.

"Yes?"

"As far as I can tell, the drug is undetectable using currently known testing methods."

~~~~~

"You seem to know an awful lot about this, Heero," she said.

He shrugged. "I saw something that didn't look right, so I did a little investigation. Then I called you."

She looked at him appraisingly.

"Can you tell me what Dorothy meant by all her jibber jabber?"

He leaned back slightly. "I can try."

He held up the fingers of one hand and ticked them off one by one.

"She mentioned Tinkerbell. My best guess, fairy dust. Cocaine."

Relena nodded.

"Veterinary medicine. It's a stretch, perhaps, but I'm thinking she meant ketamine. Special K. Cat tranquilizers."

She leaned forward, excited that some of Dorothy's cryptic comments just might have meant something after all.

"You also said she mentioned H.W. Baldwin." She nodded again. "If you do a search for that name, you come up with a quote..." He glanced at the screen and used a stylus to do something. She assumed he was searching for information. "Here it is. 'There are many false issues, straw men, and red herrings.' She was either toying with you, or warning you."

Maybe both, Relena thought.

"And Martin Guerre?"

"Ever read that book?" he asked. She shook her head. "I'm inclined to believe it ties in with the straw man concept, which, in turn ties in perfectly with that quote you gave me."

"'I bend down on my knees in the sunlit morning and kiss your wing, grey and white, gleaming in the sun,'" she quoted softly.

He nodded approvingly. "You have a good memory."

Relena blushed slightly.

"It's from a poem, as you might have guessed by now. _Poem to a Dead Pigeon_, by Jack Micheline."

He crossed his arms on the table and leaned forward.

"I think she was telling you that Peacecraft is going to be used as a scapegoat."

~~~~~

"Wufei!"

Duo and Wufei looked up as Janet practically skidded past Duo's office door. She grabbed the doorframe and used it to propel herself inside.

"I found out something that might be of interest. It's unconfirmed," she added hesitantly.

Wufei smiled at her encouragingly. "That's all right. We're rather desperate at the moment."

"I heard a few people at break time," she said. "Apparently there are a lot of friends in the business world." Her tone of voice implied she was using the word 'friend' to mean quite the opposite.

"Yes," Wufei prodded.

"I don't know if it's true or not, but it seems that there is a team of lawyers from Zodiac scheduled to attend a meeting at Romefeller this afternoon. Rumor has it that Milliardo Peacecraft will be in attendance."

~~~~~

Relena's head was reeling. She'd thought that knowing what Dorothy was hinting at would clear her head, but nothing could be further from the truth.

Was Dorothy ally or foe?

She trusted her brother, but she sure as hell didn't trust the smirking blonde.

She didn't know whom to believe anymore. She looked at Heero, and her eyes hardened slightly.

"How do I know that _you_ aren't toying with me?"

He raised an eyebrow in question.

"That is, how do I know that Duo Maxwell hasn't sent you here in order to distract me?"

"Duo doesn't know I'm here," he said under his breath, looking uncomfortable.

She leaned forward, trying to peer into his eyes, but he was looking down at the palm pilot in his hands, his bangs covering his forehead.

She reached out and brushed them aside, and he looked up to meet her gaze.

"I've seen what happens to people who have had drugs slipped into their drinks," he said tightly. "At raves, at frat parties. They do things they'll regret, things that go against their better judgement."

His brown eyes turned an odd color, one she couldn't quite describe.

"I don't want you to get sucked into that. I think your company deserves better than being led to slaughter like a proverbial lamb."

She put both arms on the table and touched one of Heero's hands. He released the electronic device and she pulled his hand into both of hers, wrapping her fingers around it tightly.

"She must have been very special to you."

He looked poleaxed, and she felt inordinately pleased that she'd surprised him.

"Who?"

"You said I reminded you of someone you once knew," she said. "You must have wanted to protect her from the seamier side of life."

"Yes," he choked out.

His fingers were lax in her hand. She drew their hands to her mouth and kissed the back of his knuckles lightly. He flexed his hand to loosen her grip and then interlaced their fingers, tightening his own hand around hers in a gentle squeeze.

"Well, well, well," a voice behind Heero said. "What do we have here? You seem to have made some rather interesting friends, Relena."

Relena's head jerked up and she nearly gasped.

"Milliardo!"

tbc

~~~~~

OK. Did anyone figure out that Relena was meeting Heero before reading this chapter?

__

Entheogen, (noun): A drug or other substance that engenders a deeply spiritual experience. Roughly derived from three parts: En = Within, Inner; Theo = Divine, God; and Gen = Becoming, Creating. Can also considered to mean "becoming divine within."

Dorothy's cryptic comments, explained at last! 

A few people told me that they'd actually looked up Lorelei Lee after Chapter 4, so I wondered if anyone had tried looking for H. W. Baldwin or tried a search for Dorothy's little quote from the poem. Anyone pick up on the fact that it's the only place I used the spelling "grey" instead of "gray"? Nah, I didn't think so. I miss enough typos that you don't have to look for meaning in them!

If you do a search for Dorothy's quote with the word spelled as 'gray' you will obtain different results, but using Yahoo and the poem's spelling 'grey,' you can find the entire poem as the first search result just using that blurb as your search criteria.

So what does that poem have to do with anything? Well, a _pigeon_ refers to a scapegoat. 

A _straw man_, as quoted by H.W. Baldwin, also known as a "man of straw," is a front. Meaning? To quote Merriam Webster, a man of straw is: " a person usually without means or position who is vested with some nominal or fictitious post or responsibility as a cover in proceedings of doubtful legality or to shield the real author of an action."

Heero is right. If you search for H. W. Baldwin, again, using Yahoo, the quote is found in search result number 22.

Red herrings - anyone not know what those are? You should by now. I use them all the time! Again, I call upon my friends at Merriam Webster dot com!

__

Red herring (noun): [so called from the traditional practice of dragging a red herring across a trail to destroy the scent] : a diversion intended to distract attention from the real issue.

If you haven't read the book _The Return of Martin Guerre_ by Natalie Zemon Davis, I will try to summarize briefly, and you can use your own imagination as to what Dorothy (or I!) meant by that.

An ill-humored, downright unpleasant, man named Martin Guerre ups and leaves his wife Bertrande, with whom he had less than an ideal marriage from the start.

He's presumed dead. Months or maybe years later he resurfaces, a much kinder, gentler Martin. The marriage blossoms in a way that it never had before. The village is completely charmed by the changes in the man.

Surprise! The real Martin Guerre later shows up, missing a leg as a result of fighting for the King of Spain, and the first gentleman, the one who everyone was drawn to, was nothing more than an imposter named Arnaud. He was tried and found guilty of deceit, and sentenced to hanging. He convinced the village that Bertrande was innocent in all of this, having truly believed that he was Martin. Lucky her, she got to live with the real Martin Guerre after Arnaud was put to death. The story is actually based on a real account of events that took place in the 16th century, during what is sometimes referred to as one of France's most infamous trials.

Make what you will of all of that, because all I can tell you at this point is that it is very symbolic on a few levels. By the way, I recently discovered that the story was somewhat retold in the movie _Sommersby_, which stars, interestingly enough, Richard Gere.


	27. Siblings

****

The Edulcoration of Duo Maxwell - 27/?

~~~~~~~

Warnings: AU, yaoi, coarse language, violence, angst, citrusy situations, suggestive dialog, _significant_ (read that as major, MAJOR) deviation from Pretty Woman script as I see fit. Gratuitous insertion of red herrings throughout.

Spoilers: None for GW, quite a bit for Pretty Woman.

Disclaimer: I don't really need to be Captain Obvious here, do I? No ownership, no money being made, yadda yadda. Written for fun, not profit.

Archived at:   
http : // www . atsui . org  
http : // www . gundam-wing-diaries . 150m . com / gw / Mookie / gwmookie . htm

__

Edulcorate (verb) - To free from harshness (as of attitude); to soften

~~~~~~~

****

Chapter 27 - Siblings

Milliardo Peacecraft walked over to his sister's side of the table then turned to face Heero. He leaned toward the seated man, placing his hands flat on the table.

He stared into his eyes for a moment, then straightened. "Relena, get your things. We're leaving."

She started to protest, and he cut her off with a resounding "_NOW!_"

She flinched at his angry tone, and realized that he was staring at her hands, which were still grasping Heero's. She pulled them free as if Heero's touch burned, and her eyes swelled with unshed tears. "I'm sorry, Heero," she whispered.

"He'll be a hell of a lot more than sorry if he did more than..._that_," Milliardo seethed.

First she wanted to protest their innocence. Then she wanted to rail at him and tell him it was none of his business who she met with. She was nearly eighteen, after all.

But she wasn't yet, not for a couple of months. And if she wanted any chance of getting him to listen to the information she'd received, she had to abide by her brother's rules. She was running out of time, as his meeting was scheduled in little more than an hour. That meant she had until he sent her home with Pagan to convince him otherwise. She wished it were a much longer walk to where the limo was waiting.

He herded her past Heero and followed right behind. He paused as he reached Heero's side.

"Funny," he said without turning his head. "For some reason, I thought you had blue eyes."

Relena did turn around, looking confused. "No, they've always been brown," she interjected, then hoped she hadn't made things worse by saying anything.

"My mistake, then," Milliardo said, shrugging diffidently as he met his sister's eyes.

Heero had closed his eyes and gritted his teeth as soon as Peacecraft had stopped, knowing something was coming that he wasn't going to like.

Before Milliardo could resume his departure, Heero's hand reached out and caught the blond man's arm.

This time Milliardo did turn to face him.

"If you do not remove your hand," he said between clenched teeth. "I will remove it from your body."

"I'd like to see you try," Heero said, his voice steady.

"Heero..." Relena tried to intervene, but neither man was paying her any attention.

"She's an intelligent young woman," Heero stated. "You should listen to her."

"Why? Because you filled her head with enough bullshit to cover several acres?"

"Don't cut off your own arm just to spite me," Heero said, releasing the death grip he had on the taller man's wrist.

"Don't flatter yourself," Milliardo said, then pushed his sister ahead of him and toward the doors.

Heero watched him leave.

He knew he'd never met the man before, but the way he strode out of the restaurant, his moves purposeful and confident...Heero would swear he recognized that carriage from somewhere.

He turned back in his seat and stared at the remains of their lunch. He picked up a crouton that had escaped one of the salads and studied it, then crushed it between his fingers.

Looked like another pencil had been removed from the tower. He'd suspected the inevitability of its imminent crash for a while now.

He flicked the crouton dust from his fingers and pulled several bills from his pocket to pay for the meal.

It didn't bother him as much as it should have.

~~~~~

Sally Po's partner joined her at the tail end of her conversation with Iria Winner.

"I didn't want to just send something stating the test results were inconclusive," Iria was saying. "I wanted to let you know that I ran the tests twice, using everything I have access to here. I even sent a sample over to CalTech for a second opinion, but..."

"Yeah, I know," Sally sighed. "It's tough to get an accurate analysis when it's used as a teaching tool."

"On the other hand," her partner interjected. "Maybe they'll see something we missed, because they aren't going in with as many preconceived notions."

"That's what I was thinking," Iria's voice sounded weary.

"Listen, Winner, thanks for all you've done. Sally and I appreciate your assistance."

"Anything I can do to help prevent someone like my brother from falling victim to something like that..." Iria choked on a near sob.

"Iria?" Sally asked.

The woman on the phone sniffled slightly. "I'm sorry. You know I don't usually fall apart like this. It's just that he's never there when I call. He's always 'just stepped out' or 'will be here any minute' but I haven't spoken to him in months. Not since he said something about getting a roommate."

Sally exchanged glances with her partner, then cleared her throat.

"Iria, do you need me to do anything?"

"Not unless you can send my brother back home," she replied wistfully.

"I would if I could," Sally said softly.

"I know." If Iria's voice sounded that depressed over the phone, Sally couldn't imagine the expression on the doctor's face. "I know. I'm sorry. I meant to keep this discussion devoid of any personal issues."

Sally shot a pleading look at her partner, who took the hint.

"We're doing everything we can, and your help is invaluable as always, Iria."

"Thank you," she said. "I appreciate your help, both of you. If I hear anything from Pasadena, I'll call you."

"You have our cell numbers, right?" Sally asked. "Any time, day or night."

"Got them both," Iria agreed. "I'll be in touch."

Sally hit the button on the speakerphone and yanked the pins from her hair roughly, letting her braids thump against her shoulders. She put her feet up on the closest desk, leaned back in her chair, and closed her eyes. She began rubbing her temples and swearing under her breath in Chinese.

"You only do that when you're really aggravated, Po."

Sally wanted to glare, but she was too tired to care. The lights seemed far too bright and she supposed it was only a matter of time before she collapsed on her feet.

She rattled off several rather colorful insults in both Cantonese and Min, then smiled weakly at the short bark of laughter that response got her.

It wasn't just because this particular case was so frustrating that she missed working in the lab in Maryland, but on days like today, it was almost enough to make her want to insist on being sent back, no matter how shorthanded they were lately.

She desperately needed a drink.

~~~~~

"Milliardo, if you'd just _listen_ to me," she pleaded, stopping at the limousine and grabbing one of his arms. She was honestly afraid he'd shove her into the car and slam the door, then rap on the roof to tell Pagan to floor it.

"Do you know how much time I've wasted coming here to fetch you?" His eyes were cold, but Relena knew that he was very angry with her.

"How did you know-"

"How did I know where to find you?" He laughed harshly. "Do you think I wouldn't follow you, not knowing who you knew in this city? For God's sake, Relena, what if you'd been kidnapped or something? I wouldn't put a thing past that asshole Maxwell!"

"I didn't think you'd notice I was gone," she said miserably, bowing her head and giving into the urge to wring her hands.

He started to yell at her, then he realized what she'd said. He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths.

"Relena," he said, fighting to keep his voice low and nonthreatening. "Did you really think I wouldn't miss your presence in the house?"

She looked up at him then, her face a study in confusion. He ran a hand through his hair.

"The house is rather empty without you in it," he said. He didn't want her to ask one of the million questions flitting across her face. Why did he send her away to go to school. Why did he act like he didn't want her involved in anything. Why did he go out of his way to keep her away from anything _he_ was involved in.

Their father had thrown him into the role of a parent long before Milliardo had been forced to give up the career he loved. Ever since their mother had died, he'd been more a father than a brother. His father was too naive by far, content to believe that doing the right thing would result in a business that was in the black. He couldn't imagine where Peacecraft would be today if he hadn't acceded to his father's demands, demands that had been disguised as a plea for him to do what was best for the family, and returned to the West Coast. To 'ruin' the company, of course.

It hadn't been so bad when there was a female around to influence Relena, but he didn't have time to think about one more thing that he'd had to give up. Just seeing that man with Relena made him want to tear him limb from limb.

He'd made a horrible mess of things, and he wasn't sure how to fix it. He glanced at his watch. He still had forty-five minutes before the meeting with Romefeller.

He sighed. "Get in," he said, gesturing to the car.

She looked ready to burst into tears, but he was proud of her for not giving in to the hurt that was clearly displayed on her features.

With another sigh, he got in after her. "Drive," he instructed Pagan.

Once the car was in motion, he turned to a very surprised Relena.

"Talk."

~~~~~

"Whose side do you suppose Zodiac's lawyers are on?" Duo asked. "Peacecraft's, or Dermail's?"

Wufei gritted his teeth.

"I wouldn't put it past that bastard Khushrenada to be playing both sides against the middle," he ground out.

Duo looked up, a bit surprised. It seemed his partner had a bit of history with Khushrenada, considering his reaction at seeing him with Peacecraft at the festival as well as hearing about Zodiac's lawyers meeting with Romefeller.

Janet had been thanked and sent on her way, and as soon as the door was shut and locked, Wufei had launched into a round of cursing that almost made Duo blush. For someone who didn't know how to swear in a language other than English, his partner came up with some rather creative insults and expletives.

Duo had almost wished for a bag of popcorn while he watched Wufei pace in agitation, cursing Khushrenada, Dermail, their ancestors dating back several generations, the entire state of California, the gleefully masochistic Fates that had put him in this position, and even Duo.

It had taken him a good fifteen minutes to finally wear himself out, and Duo almost expected him to fly around the room like a balloon that had its air released.

Of course Wufei hadn't appreciated the slightly amused look on Duo's face at the thought.

Duo was just as pissed as Wufei, but he was also a practical man. He'd done what he could, had tried to manipulate things to the best of his ability, but it hadn't been good enough.

Dermail had taken him by surprise, but it wouldn't happen again.

There would be other opportunities for revenge.

~~~~~

Relena tried to fill her brother in on Heero's theory as rapidly as possible. His face was expressionless, and she didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

She knew she was leaving a lot out, but she had a time constraint. If she couldn't convince him, he was going to hand their company over to Dermail. She was convinced Heero's comment that it would be 'disastrous' was an apt one.

Perhaps it would still work out in the end, if they went into it with their eyes open, but she thought of Dorothy's smug look and her knowing voice. The idea of having to deal with that day in and day out made her shiver. She couldn't work with someone with the feeling she had to look over her shoulder every minute.

She hadn't even given any thought to the impact a long-winded discussion on illegal drug activity would have on her audience until she saw his fists clench in his lap.

"OH! God, I'm sorry, Milliardo! I wasn't thinking..."

"Leave it," he hissed. His voice softened. "Just leave it, Relena. Water under the bridge."

They sat there in silence, Relena looking at her hands which were busily worrying the hem of her blouse and Milliardo watching Mann's Chinese Theater out the window as they passed it for the third time. Finally he had calmed his inner thoughts enough to speak.

"And all this information is from a young man you just met. One who you damn well know is involved in some kind of relationship with Duo Maxwell."

"He said Duo didn't know anything," she blurted out.

He found that bit of information rather interesting, although he wasn't convinced of its veracity.

Milliardo's level of distrust of the young man was disproportionate to the facts he had available, but something about him just grated against his every nerve.

Still...

He removed a cell phone from his inside pocket and placed a call.

tbc


	28. Cancer

****

The Edulcoration of Duo Maxwell - 28/?

~~~~~~~

Warnings: AU, yaoi, coarse language, violence, angst, citrusy situations, suggestive dialog, _significant_ (read that as major, MAJOR) deviation from Pretty Woman script as I see fit. Gratuitous insertion of red herrings throughout.

Spoilers: None for GW, quite a bit for Pretty Woman.

Disclaimer: I don't really need to be Captain Obvious here, do I? No ownership, no money being made, yadda yadda. Written for fun, not profit.

Archived at:   


http: // www . gundam-wing-diaries . 150m . com / gw / Mookie / gwmookie . htm  
http: // www . atsui . org

__

Edulcorate (verb) - To free from harshness (as of attitude); to soften

~~~~~~~

****

Chapter 28 - Cancer

Treize Khushrenada stood by the window looking out at the city of Los Angeles from the high rise building he was in.

Duke Dermail was close to having epileptic fits, he noted with a trace of amusement. He'd been rather unhappy to discover that the legal services of Zodiac had already been employed by one Milliardo Peacecraft.

Treize had told his old friend that he couldn't mix business with friendship, but he'd allowed himself to rationalize that it was acceptable in this case, as he was merely providing his company's services in a support function and not as a business partner.

He did want Milliardo to have the best legal advice he could, after all. He'd been almost disappointed to discover the plans his friend had for proceeding forward with a merger between Peacecraft and Romefeller, but it was not his place to tell him how to run his company, no matter how much he'd been tempted.

It was up to Milliardo to discover things the hard way. Anything he could say would be colored with his own past experiences, and he hated to admit it, but he'd rather hoped to see Peacecraft left with no other option than the one the blond businessman had bitched about the other morning.

Pride did go before a fall, he thought almost sadly.

He stood there, with his hands behind his back. The fingers of his left hand encircled his right wrist and he indulged himself in a bit of nostalgia.

It was only a fringe benefit that it served to show Dermail his back, as if he couldn't be bothered with the man.

~~~~~

Wufei's look of pure hatred had managed to soften into one of mottled rage instead by the time the intercom on Duo's phone beeped.

Duo knew that if he didn't answer it, no one would, but he couldn't imagine that it would matter one way or another at this point.

He pressed the speakerphone button. "Yes?"

"Duo?" Janet's voice asked tentatively. "Is Wufei still there?"

"Yes," Wufei answered. He didn't want to talk to Janet. He really liked the girl, but nothing she could say would make things better. All he wanted to do was go home to Meiran.

And he couldn't even do that, not without talking to her about a few things first, or she'd never understand why he was so upset.

"You'd mentioned that any information pertaining to Milliardo Peacecraft's movements would be helpful, remember?" Janet asked.

Wufei nodded, and Duo conveyed that message to her. "Yes, he does."

She was silent a moment, long enough for Duo to start wondering why she had bothered to call if she weren't going to say anything.

"ANY movements, right?"

"Yes," Duo said. If he hadn't already started to appreciate the girl's intelligence, he'd have been banging his head on the desk at her reluctance to impart whatever she thought might be important.

"I was talking to my mom at lunchtime," she said. "And she was eating in one of the dining rooms at the Hollywood Roosevelt Hotel. You know, the one near the Chinese Theater?"

"Go on," Duo prompted. Wufei was staring out the window, his posture tense.

"Well, it seems as though there was a minor altercation..."

"Involving Milliardo Peacecraft?" Duo jumped on the implication.

"Yes. Well, at least, I assume that's who she was talking about. You don't see many men with waist length platinum blond hair walking around, even in Hollywood."

Duo wanted to laugh, considering that's exactly what Heero had been sporting the night they'd met, but he was willing to bet it was indeed Peacecraft at that hotel.

"What happened?"

"My mom said that there was a young couple sitting at a table along the wall. She thought they were having a romantic lunch when the blond man, I'm assuming Mr. Peacecraft, practically stormed in and confronted them both. She thought the two men were going to come to blows for a moment, but then someone walked by her table and blocked her view of what was going on. Next thing she knew, Mr. Peacecraft and the girl were leaving, and the other man was just sitting there. She said he stayed there a while, doing nothing, then he tossed some money on the table and left."

"A young man," Duo mused. He'd only been thinking out loud, but Janet took his comment as a question for more information.

"Have I mentioned that my mom is a bit of a clothes horse? She went on about the Gucci suit that the blond man wore, the casual elegance of the girl's Donna Karan skirt and blouse, and then she described what the mysterious young man was wearing."

Duo didn't much care if they'd all been there wearing nothing more than burlap sacks until she laughed slightly and uttered her next words.

"I thought it was a bizarre coincidence that she described a shirt remarkably like the one you wore yesterday. I remember it only because you almost always wear a tie, but yesterday you didn't. Apparently someone out there has the same taste as you do."

Duo froze. He knew the shirt she was referring to, even though he'd barely been aware of what he'd worn the morning before, in his haste to escape the temptation that was Heero.

"Did she mention what the girl and the young man looked like?" he asked, afraid of the answer, but needing to know all the same.

"The girl had long hair almost like the blond man's, only darker, like a light brown. The young man, to quote my mother, looked like he'd just rolled out of bed, but in a good way." She laughed nervously. "My mom is a bit of an admirer of men," she added, sounding a bit uncomfortable and apologetic. Most likely she was regretting mentioning it at all.

Duo felt as if he'd been cold cocked just before an icy rage started to build up inside him.

"Thank you for the information, Janet," he said, disconnecting the call as soon as the words were out of his mouth.

Wufei turned to say something, but the look on Duo's face prevented him from doing something so stupid.

~~~~~

It was ten minutes before two o'clock when a cell phone rang in Romefeller's executive conference room.

Treize did not move from the window as he answered it.

"Khushrenada."

He listened for several moments before saying, "I will let them know."

Duke Dermail did not care for the pleased little smile that was on Treize's face as he turned from the window.

"I regret to inform you that this meeting will need to be rescheduled."

"WHAT?" Dermail was apoplectic. "This is an outrage!"

"My client is exercising his right to explore other available options prior to making a binding commitment to Romefeller," Treize said apologetically. "We will be in touch to reschedule should the circumstances be in your favor."

With that, he strode out. His attorneys shook hands with Romefeller's lawyers, and they followed suit shortly afterwards.

Dermail wanted to strangle someone. First Treize took control of Zodiac when he wasn't looking. Then he'd _finally_ managed to get somewhere with Wizard Industries, but Maxwell and Chang had summarily fleeced him of that one as well. He was tired of coming up the loser in his quest to build an empire he could be proud of.

He whirled on his granddaughter, who looked not one bit surprised at the outcome.

"Dorothy," he said tightly. "What did you say to Miss Peacecraft yesterday?"

His granddaughter looked only slightly chagrined. Amusement and even a hint of admiration laced her words.

"I told the sparrow where to find the scissors," she said enigmatically. "To cut the string." She picked up a lock of long blonde hair. "Poor birds. They don't usually find them in time," she added.

She looked up and saw the wide-eyed look she was being given. She got up and walked over to him. She placed one hand on his shoulder.

"I am sorry, Grandfather," she said quietly. "But the victory isn't very rewarding unless the game is played first."

He had always admired the chit, but sometimes he thought he'd made a mistake in grooming her for this business at such a young age.

He hated having to start over.

He put an arm around her and gave her a half-hearted squeeze, then stepped back.

"Ever go for a second round in this game of yours?" he asked.

Her eyes lit up as she smiled.

~~~~~

Wufei was unsure as to what to make of Janet's latest bit of info, and Duo's dark mood made him forego asking him for his opinion.

He finally decided perhaps the two of them needed some space and he headed for his office, leaving Duo to brood, because he was sure that's what he was doing, in silence.

Duo didn't notice his departure. He hadn't noticed much of anything since Janet's latest news flash.

Hearsay or not, he had no doubt that it was true, and he wasn't stupid. He knew very well the identity of the couple that Milliardo had interrupted. He had felt it in his gut as soon as Janet had mentioned the presence of a young man and woman at the restaurant where her mother had dined. He felt betrayed in a way that Hilde's long-distance break up couldn't begin to touch.

He sat and continued staring at his computer screen, letting the rage inside fester.

His face didn't change in the slightest as it grew into something ugly.

~~~~~

Heero let himself into the suite and glanced at the clock. He'd done what he could. He didn't know if it had been a waste of time, but at least he could honestly say he'd tried.

He didn't like the Tinkerbell comment, though. Cocaine was a stimulant, and the inclusion of that particular drug suggested the use of speedballs to him. Made worse was that cocaine was a Schedule II drug, which meant it did have recognized medical benefits.

Had it been one of the red herrings Dorothy wanted to throw in Relena's face, or was there more to this than met the eye?

He sincerely hoped Peacecraft listened to his sister, no matter what the man thought of him personally.

He didn't want to give any more thought to Peacecraft's vague hints and blatant resentment. He glanced at the clock again.

  
Duo had said not to wait up. He should have plenty of time to get in a decent workout at the hotel gym and still be showered before Duo got back.

He rummaged through the dresser drawers looking for the bike shorts he'd borrowed the other day and found another tank top as well. Duo had remembered to add socks to Heero's wardrobe, so once he was dressed, he pulled them on and dug into the closet for Duo's athletic shoes.

He didn't care if the elevator operator got an eyeful dressed as he was. The man could go hang.

He was looking forward to a rather intense workout. He had a feeling he was going to need it.

He didn't know how prophetic those words were going to be.

tbc


	29. Endorphins

The Edulcoration of Duo Maxwell - 29/?

Warnings: AU, yaoi, coarse language, violence, angst, cliffhanger endings, red herrings, various vices, random bits of useless knowledge, nonexplicit male/male sex.

Spoilers: None.

Disclaimer: I don't really need to be Captain Obvious here, do I? No ownership, no money being made, yadda yadda. Written for fun, not profit.

Archived at: Gundam Wing Diaries, Atsui, Sweetly Sour, Gundam Wing Addiction, The Forsaken

Edulcorate (verb) - To free from harshness (as of attitude); to soften

* * *

Chapter 29 - Endorphins

Heero felt the familiar muscle fatigue indicating he was reaching the end of his endurance, but he wasn't quite ready to give up on the weights just yet.

He was able to lose himself in the repetitions. It prevented him from drawing unwanted comparisons between Relena and Kitty.

Eventually the fatigue started leaning more towards pain, and he knew well enough to not push it. Muscle tears were something he couldn't afford, not if things were going to turn out the way he suspected they would.

The downside of placing the free weights back on the rack was that he had nothing left to distract him.

Between the incident with Alvarez and Relena's comment about his desire to protect the person who had once been closest to him, he knew without a doubt the direction his thoughts would turn. Why wouldn't they, he thought bitterly. It had been going on for a good portion of the week so far.

He hated to admit that, aside from the nightmare he'd had that morning, they were, by and large, fond memories.

* * *

Duo was still staring at his monitor when Wufei returned an hour later.

"Duo."

There was no response, and Wufei was just starting to think his partner had fallen asleep at the computer when he heard the quiet reply.

"What."

Wufei frowned. Duo sounded almost bored, but Wufei would swear he was barely holding on to his temper.

"You're not going to believe this," he said cautiously.

"Try me."

Duo would not turn around, but Wufei had enough on his mind without concerning himself with that at the moment. Maybe tomorrow, he'd deal with it, but he didn't want anything distracting him from the upcoming discussion he planned on having with his wife that evening.

"I received a rather interesting phone call about five minutes ago."

"Did you."

Wufei had to keep taking deep breaths and counting to five before responding, so irked was he by Duo's pissed off, laissez-faire attitude.

"Milliardo Peacecraft called."

Duo didn't respond, but Wufei could see the subtle increase of tension in his shoulders.

"He informed me that he was still exploring several options, but wanted to know if we'd be available this weekend should his decision be in our favor."

"Fascinating," Duo said, sounding as if he thought the news was anything but.

"I gave him my cell, told him that we'd be waiting to hear from him."

"Bully for him."

Well, Wufei thought, it was a sarcastic response, likely the closest thing he'd get to Duo's typical banter for a while.

"I wanted to let you know that," he said lamely. "And that I've decided to leave early. Meiran..." he trailed off, wondering if perhaps that wasn't the best thing to have brought up.

"Yes," Duo said hollowly. "Go home to your WIFE."

It _definitely_ wasn't the best thing for him to have brought up.

He wasn't going to waste any more time worrying about Duo. He turned and left, turning the overhead light off on his way out to see if he'd get any reaction whatsoever.

He didn't.

* * *

"It must be kinda cool to know Japanese, seeing as you're Japanese-but-not-really," she said, pulling a handful of grass from the lawn as they sat side by side near the kiddie pool.

He gently tapped her on the back of her hand. She stuck out her tongue. "MY backyard," she said simply, then tugged an even bigger handful, roots and all, and shook the dirt loose before tossing it over her shoulder, just missing the pool.

He shook his head. She was a brat at times.

"So how do you say 'American' in Japanese?"

"Well, there's amerikan_, or _beijin. Beikokumin_ for American citizen. Yes, they could be different things," he added hastily. "Or..._nikkeibeijin 

_She noticed the smile on his face when he said that. "What's so different about the last one?"_

_He tried to adopt an expression of innocence, but all that got him was a lump of sod in his hair._

_"Well?"_

_"Ah," he said. "That would be an American of Japanese descent." He looked rather smug as he imparted that bit of knowledge, but it didn't do much to keep the next plug of grass from landing in his lap._

_"Smarty pants," she sighed. "Did you learn Japanese because of your Japanese an-cess-tree?" she drawled. Her eyes twinkled merrily._

_"No," he said. "I learned Japanese because I was living in Japan."_

_"Because you're Japanese," she pointed out, then held up one hand, palm towards him. "I know, I know. You're American. Or Nikky Bay Gin, or whatever."_

_He lightly slapped the back of her hand again as she reached for another handful of grass, and this time she elbowed him._

_"Well," she said. "I don't know Spanish."_

_"You don't live in Spain."_

_"I'm not Spanish!" she said, making him laugh._

_"I know that. You've told me many times that you are Colombian," he stretched out the last word, but also said it with a deliberately pronounced accent._

_She cupped one hand under her chin and tapped her index finger on her cheek._

_"What are you hiding, '_Niisan 

_"Who, me?"_

_She shoved him back with both hands that time._

"Eres una malcriada_," he sighed, holding a hand to his chest dramatically as fell onto his back. _

"I don't believe you," she gaped. "Shit!"

"Esperanza!" he sat up abruptly and frowned.

"DON'T CALL ME THAT!" she screeched. Then she realized what she'd said to earn his disapproval. "Oh. Oops." She made a face, then gave him her most engaging smile.

"Your brothers would beat you for saying that."

"Why do you think I can get away with it when I'm with you?"

He sighed. "I would rather you didn't."

She bit her lip. "I know. I AM sorry, 'Niisan_. It's not that I don't respect you. You just took me by surprise, is all." She threw both arms around him. "Did you learn Spanish just for meeeee?"_

He blushed, but she couldn't see, as her cheek was pressed against his shoulder and she was nuzzling him playfully.

"Off," he said, giving her the gentlest of shoves.

"You DID!" she squealed. "'Niisan_, that is the _nicest_ thing anyone has ever done for me!"_

"The United States doesn't have a monopoly on second languages," he muttered, refusing to meet her gaze. "Japan does have foreign language studies other than English."

Her eyes were full of unadulterated worship. "Aw, 'Niisan_," she said. "I know I said I was going to learn it someday, but I'm not kidding when I say I've not made much progress. What did you call me, anyway?"_

_"Brat," he muttered, although she wasn't sure if that was an answer to her question or an epithet. Probably both, she decided. She looked like he'd given her the highest of compliments._

_"I really can't believe you did that for me."_

_"It's a useful second language," he said stiffly, but the smile was firmly affixed to her face despite his half-hearted attempts at denial._

_"Think I'll ever learn all these different languages like you do, 'Niisan?"_

_"I only know three, including English." He unbent slightly at her pout. "As for you...Ahhh. Depends. After all..."_

_"What?" she asked menacingly, her pouting lips rendering the effect useless._

Te hace falta disciplina_," he said slowly, looking rather pleased with himself._

_"I may not understand Spanish, but I'm pretty sure I have a da- a dang good idea what that means, you know."_

_He nodded, looking quite serious. "Well, there are cognates..."_

_She waved the rest of whatever he was going to say away with one hand. "How do you say 'Japanese' in Spanish?"_

_"Why don't you ask one of your parents to be your Spanish-English dictionary?"_

_"I'm asking you."_

Japonés_," he sighed._

_"Hmmm. How do you say 'Spanish' in Japanese?"_

_"You are just full of questions today."_

_"And you're full of answers, which is why we're perfect for each other!" she beamed._

_He couldn't help it. He'd always doted on her. He thought about it before answering, a slight frown marring his features as he tried to remember._

Supeingo_ refers to the language," he said finally. "But you would be known as _raten_, Latin American."_

_She looked up at him again with shining eyes._

_"I love you, 'Ro," she said, leaning her head against his shoulder._

_'Ah, _Ichiru_,' he thought, resting his chin on the top of her head. '_Te quiero, tambien 

__

_

* * *

_

Heero couldn't help smiling a little as he pulled the keycard out of the waistband of the shorts he'd borrowed from Duo. It felt...damn good to remember the happy times. He'd tried to bury those memories along with everything that made up who he was as a person.

The brief trip down memory lane had been surprisingly cathartic. After the workout, which had left him pleasantly tired, he'd given in to the reminiscing as he took the stairs instead of the elevator. Instead of the heart-rending pain that used to accompany the activity, he was left with nothing more than a dull ache.

Maybe it was true about time healing all wounds, he thought, pushing the keycard into the slot and opening the door.

"Have a busy day while I was gone, Heero?"

Duo was back.

And, to put it mildly, he didn't look happy.

* * *

"Meiran?" Wufei called as he entered the apartment.

She wasn't there, but he noticed her sneakers weren't near the door where she normally kept them. She was probably out running.

It was one activity they disagreed on. Meiran preferred to be outdoors; didn't matter if it was an open field or along city blocks, as long as she had scenery to enjoy.

Wufei preferred to use a treadmill, although he didn't particularly care for jogging as a form of exercise in the first place, and would only consider it as a last resort.

He had to admit, though, Meiran did look good in those running shorts. Maybe she'd be wearing a headband, too, to keep her hair out of her eyes. Then she'd come in and take a long drink of water, leaving her lips wet with moisture...

He shook his head. How he could think of ravishing his wife at a time like this was beyond him.

But maybe she'd be amenable to the idea when she got home. After all, he'd normally still be at work at this time, and it wasn't as if their plans for the evening would suffer as a result of a little indulgence.

He refused to admit to himself that he also craved the reassurance the physical contact would give him before he bared his soul.

* * *

Duo was leaning back against the desk with his arms crossed. The closed off body language was not a good sign, nor was the cold smile on his face.

Heero had no doubt he knew exactly what Duo was referring to, and his heart sank. He knew what conclusions he'd jump to in Duo's position. The only question was how the hell news managed to get from Hollywood Boulevard to Duo's firm's office so damn fast. Based on Duo's attitude, it was clear that he hadn't been recognized, at least not beyond his association with Duo. It was almost funny, really. For the second time, he cursed his distraction in neglecting to wear the wig, then remembered it really wasn't going to matter for very much longer.

Duo watched the surprise and confusion flit across Heero's face through slitted eyes before a sense of calm settled there. He wanted to lash out at the man.

Heero had no right to look so fucking enticing. His hair was damp and clinging to his forehead and temples. His skin damn near glistened. The shorts could have been painted on his hips and thighs, and his groin was practically on display, begging to be admired. The tank top was darkened with sweat in front and along the sides.

And damned if Duo didn't want to see that tank top balled up on the floor, leaving Heero's unnaturally smooth chest exposed.

"I thought we had an agreement, Heero."

"One which I have abided by at all times," Heero said, frowning.

"Ever hear of a conflict of interests?"

"What I do in my free time is none of your business."

"Ah, but it is. Remember? I hired you for the entire week. There IS no 'free time.'"

"You also told me I was on my own while you were at work, and to not wait up."

"Did I? Although I do recall telling you not to wait up, I believe I said you were on your own yesterday. I granted no such freedoms today."

He knew that Heero would bristle at that, and he was right. Heero's fists clenched at his sides, making the tendons in both forearms bulge. Duo forced himself to avoid looking at them and kept his eyes focused on Heero's face instead.

"I insist that you abstain from moonlighting while you are in my employ," he said. "Your services are not saleable to others until the end of our contract."

For some reason, Heero seemed to have taken a liking to Relena Peacecraft, and Duo knew it. It was obvious Heero was just barely holding himself back. This time Duo wasn't going to fall for a sucker punch, that was for damn sure.

"She wasn't paying me for sex, and you know it," Heero growled.

"Oh? Did I say anything about sex? You have a filthy mind, Heero." Duo pretended to clean his nails, watching Heero's body tremble slightly. "You shouldn't assume anything."

"What else would I think you meant?" Heero shot back. "I am the 'rudest fucking whore you ever met,' remember?"

"That's back when I didn't know you!" Duo snapped, then realized he'd allowed Heero to get to him. He schooled his features back into placidity. "Intimately," he added, implying a distinct lack of intimacy.

"But now," he said, putting as much contempt in his voice as he could. "Now I know that you think you can have it both ways, Heero. I regret to inform you, you can't. Of course, even if she were paying you, she couldn't compare to what I can offer. Or perhaps you were giving her a freebie?"

Heero was visibly shaking now. "Don't talk about her like that," he said, his voice tight with anger.

That was all Duo needed to be pushed past the limits of his control. He lunged toward Heero with all his might.

Heero hadn't been expecting the physical assault. Taken by surprise, and weary from his workout, he was unable to brace himself against the impact. He crashed to the ground, with Duo on top of him, before he started fighting back.

Early in their struggle, one of Duo's fingers managed to poke a hole in the tank top near the seam at the neck. He attacked that small rip with both hands, tearing the shirt from top to bottom with only the reinforced stitching at the neckline intact before his hands returned to Heero's sides.

Once Heero's chest was exposed, Duo began kissing and nipping at it, his hands eventually following the path his mouth took. He paused long enough to yank the tattered remains over Heero's head.

"You work..." he rasped. "For me!" His tongue slid along Heero's side, from waist to armpit, causing the man to hiss.

"I am the one paying you," he whispered in Heero's ear before shoving his tongue in it. He bit the lobe hard enough to distract Heero from the hand that was working its way down the front of the shorts, but not hard enough to cause an indentation.

"Until this week is over," he said, moving his mouth to one of Heero's nipples and sucking lightly.

"You belong to me."

Heero's anger was quickly replaced by passion, or perhaps the former was merely serving to amplify the latter.

His entire body was rapidly being reduced to a quivering mass of pure need. The adrenaline rush from the workout paled in comparison. Duo was tugging his shorts down, and he arched his back so Duo could remove the offending garment. By the time Duo pressed his own body against Heero's again, his employer was naked from the waist up.

"You are mine, Heero," he hissed in his ear. "Do you understand me?"

He nibbled lightly on Heero's neck, and Heero tilted his head to the side and bit back a groan as Duo took advantage.

"Mine."

A small part of Heero was horrified to hear a voice - his voice - answer. "Yours."

Duo struggled to remove his pants with one hand while the other was almost frantically touching Heero everywhere he could reach.

The two of them ground against each other, the friction exciting and slightly abrasive, but neither of them caring for more than the intensely pleasurable sensations the contact gave them.

"Mine," Duo repeated hoarsely, gripping Heero's hips.

"Duo," Heero moaned, not wanting to, but unable to get his wayward tongue to obey his brain's commands. His body had apparently staged a revolution of its own, responding to Duo in ways he couldn't have imagined a week ago.

Duo wrapped his arms around Heero and rolled onto his back. Heero ended up astride the other man's body as Duo stroked them both.

Heero shuddered once, then felt the tension build up to an unbearable level.

With one final cry of Duo's name, he came.

After he collapsed on Duo's body, he could feel warmth against his belly, leaving the two of them covered in shared sweat and semen.

Heero was vaguely aware of the health risks their situation posed, but pushed the awareness aside and pressed his face against Duo's shoulder. Duo's arms came around him and held him there.

He needed a shower, and probably a nap.

And a whole lot more than that, but for now, he'd focus on the physical needs.

As soon as he could bring himself to leave the warmth of Duo's somewhat ambiguous embrace.

tbc

* * *

Many thanks to shinigami2174 for all her help with the Spanish phrases!

Special thanks also go to Kewla for holding my hand through an uncharacteristic bout of self-doubt I've been having with several aspects of the story, which has grown a life of its own. All without knowing any of the details of where I'm going with it! As promised, Duo's and Heero's confrontation didn't wait another chapter!


	30. Breaking the Spell

****

The Edulcoration of Duo Maxwell - 30/?

~~~~~~~

Warnings: AU, yaoi, coarse language, violence, angst, cliffhanger endings, red herrings, various vices, random bits of useless knowledge, occasionally explicit sex.

Spoilers: None for GW, come to think of it...really not a whole lot for Pretty Woman, either.

Disclaimer: I don't really need to be Captain Obvious here, do I? No ownership, no money being made, yadda yadda. Written for fun, not profit.

Archived at:   
http : // www . atsui . org  
http : // www . gundam-wing-diaries . 150m . com / gw / Mookie / gwmookie . htm

__

Edulcorate (verb) - To free from harshness (as of attitude); to soften

~~~~~~~

****

Chapter 30 - Breaking the Spell

Meiran Long unlocked the door to the apartment and noticed immediately that something was different. She quietly closed the door behind her and toed off her sneakers, then set the keys on the kitchen counter as she set off to find what it was.

Wufei was leaning back in the recliner, a book in his slack hands. He was breathing deeply, and every now and then a sound suspiciously like a snore escaped.

She smiled. A book. Not Business Week, not a stack of financial reports. A book.

She let him sleep and headed to the bathroom to take a shower.

Meiran felt some of the tension leave her body as the warm water pulsated against her back. She really had to thank Wufei for buying the massaging showerhead when they first got to LA.

She lathered her wet hair and rubbed her scalp vigorously, then leaned back and let the water run through the dark locks until there were no longer any suds in the drain.

She would never admit it to Wufei, but she was terrified of what he was going to tell her tonight.

Meiran wasn't afraid he was going to leave her. Wufei was not the type to view marriage as something dissolvable or temporary. She wasn't even afraid he'd confess to an episode of infidelity, although she hated the fact that she'd once suspected him of it, particularly when he and Duo first started working together and he'd come home late every night.

It hadn't helped that Duo attracted attention everywhere he went.

She wouldn't deny that she, too, found Duo undeniably sexy. It was even worse when he decided he wanted to be. Sometimes she was sure his every move was calculated to entice, and other times she'd swear the man had no idea just how damn good-looking he was.

It was perhaps that mix of contradictory impressions that made his appeal so overwhelming at times.

She lightly rubbed conditioner in the ends of her hair and picked up an exfoliating sponge. She squeezed a generous amount of body wash, one that was supposed to make her smell like the air after a rainstorm, onto it and scrubbed her arms with it.

She found Duo incredibly attractive, true, but had never once been tempted to sleep with him.

The day she'd met Duo, Wufei surprised her by hauling off and punching the other man across the face when he'd seen them together. Part of her was pissed to think that he hadn't trusted her. Part of her thought that perhaps he had been tempted to cheat himself, and was projecting his own failings onto her as a defense mechanism.

The other part of her, the ridiculously squealing girl-woman part of her, was pleased beyond reason that he'd felt the need to eliminate any competitors for her affection.

She closed her eyes and moved the sponge to her chest and stomach.

She could see where Wufei might get that impression.

Duo knew how to use sex. The promise of it, the immorality of clandestine affairs, the danger of flirting right under husband's noses.

Yet Meiran doubted, for all of Duo's physical innuendoes, that he'd ever actually bedded another man's wife. He tried his hardest to convey an aura of danger, adventure, intrigue...all the elements that 'The Wives' found irresistible.

Duo would deny it if she called him on it, but he had scruples.

She lifted her hair off her neck and washed what she could reach of her back.

If she doubted her own ability to read people, which she rarely did, all she needed to know was that her husband trusted Duo.

That was good enough for her.

Meiran hung the sponge on the small hook used for that purpose and picked up a can of shaving cream. She propped one foot up on the built-in soap dish and spread the blue gel on her legs, working it into a foamy white lather.

She could spend all day trying to analyze Duo, assuming Wufei wouldn't go blind with jealousy. She smiled. It made her angry, but she couldn't help that warm feeling in the pit of her stomach whenever he acted possessive. It showed he cared in a way that wasn't rehearsed or forced.

Duo and Hilde...

Meiran had honestly liked Hilde, but it became apparent after the first six months Duo and Hilde spent seeing each other in New York that they weren't right for each other.

Meiran had minded her own business. As she'd told Duo a couple days earlier, love and justice were both blind. She didn't cater to the ideal that love conquered all, but it certainly went a long way in making things seem less overwhelming.

One problem was that Duo had never seemed out of character when he was with Hilde. That had bothered her from the start, but she'd chalked it up to the novelty that all new relationships had, where everyone was determined to make a good impression.

Not Duo. He prided himself on being who he was, everyone else be damned.

Unless he needed to put on an act for business. Then he could convince you he was a penniless octogenarian widow with a missing leg. Otherwise, what you saw was what you got.

So why had he always seemed to be on stage when he was with Hilde? The implications seemed obvious to Meiran, but she'd held her tongue. It had taken Hilde nearly three years to see it for herself.

Wufei had seemed a bit wary of Duo this week for some reason. It wasn't anything she could put her finger on, but her husband had been highly agitated much of the week, more so than the pending acquisition of Peacecraft called for.

There was only one thing she could see that was any different than any other time they'd taken up temporary residence near one of the firm's offices and Wufei had become consumed with an upcoming deal.

Heero.

Duo had introduced him simply as Heero. No surname. No explanation of who he was or where they met.

She'd gathered that little bit of info when Wufei nearly had a conniption over Heero's conversation with the blonde girl at that ridiculous carnival that was held every year.

It hadn't been Wufei's face she'd noticed, though.

It was Duo's.

For some reason, Duo had not liked what he saw.

She finished shaving that leg and repeated the process with the other one.

She knew almost nothing about Heero, but she also felt she knew him better, after meeting him a sum total of twice, than she knew Duo. Sure, she had formed numerous opinions of Duo, but she never felt she really _knew_ him.

She hated to admit she hadn't recognized the difference until she met Heero.

She'd meant what she said to Heero at the gallery. Chinks had slowly started to appear in Duo's armor, and the brief flashes she saw through them had to be what was putting Wufei off kilter.

It was none of her business, but she wished mightily that she could do something.

Except that she still had to steel herself for whatever Wufei was going to reveal to her tonight.

Meiran rinsed off all traces of soap and shaving cream, and grabbed a thick bath sheet from the linen shelf.

She wrapped it around her shoulders and tried to convince herself that the chill she felt was nothing more than the water evaporating from her skin.

Who was she kidding? Despite the faith she had in her husband and her marriage, she was scared to death.

Knowing they needed to talk, and actually sitting down to go through with it, were two different things entirely.

~~~~~

Duo realized one of his hands had started stroking Heero's arm at some point, but he made no effort to stop, enjoying the feel of the still slick skin beneath his palm.

Their current position was getting uncomfortable in more ways than one. Their bodies were starting to stick together, and Heero, despite his slender appearance, was damn heavy.

He reminded Duo of a racehorse...and was so much more fun to ride.

He couldn't help the little smirk that appeared on his face, nor the shiver that ran through him at the memories the analogy evoked.

"Cold?"

Always, Duo's mind responded, but that single word changed things. Something had happened between the two of them, and Heero had broken the spell by speaking. Funny how spells were usually broken by a kiss, the one thing that had been denied him from the start.

Hilde had never been very good at keeping her mouth shut after sex, either.

Instead of answering, Duo just stared at the ceiling and wondered if Heero could be convinced that he had dozed off.

Except his traitorous hand was still running up and down Heero's arm.

~~~~~

Quatre tugged at the gauze on his hand one more time before taking a deep breath and pushing open the door to the bar. He'd hoped that, by waiting until the regulars were there, maybe he could slip in unnoticed.

He knew it was unrealistic. Trowa had his finger on the pulse of everything that went on in The Bar, but at least he wouldn't have to acknowledge Trowa if others were around.

He could have just gone to any number of dives that peppered the neighborhood, but he'd always felt at home in Trowa's bar.

It wasn't even really Trowa's, although it should have been. Quatre could barely remember a time when Trowa wasn't the one opening or closing the place. He was the kind of person whose presence went unnoticed in a crowd, but whose absence was felt keenly.

Trowa represented to him the security he'd left behind. He entrusted Trowa to take calls from his sister. The only other person he'd even consider wanting any form of contact with Iria was Heero, but he had no desire to let Iria call him at home. Not when he was there alone, at any rate. He feared that she'd start crying, and he knew if she did that, he'd be packed and on his way back to Henderson in the blink of an eye.

He slunk past the bar and tried to lean against the wall near the jukebox with exaggerated nonchalance. His head drooped forward, letting his bangs cover his eyes as much as possible, just so he could try to watch Trowa through the pale wisps of hair.

Trowa reminded him, on a superficial level only, of his father. Both men were tall, possessed of a commanding presence, and even had similar hair, right down to the color and style.

Trowa, however, seemed content with what life had dealt him, or at least accepting of it.

His father, on the other hand...

Quatre couldn't live up to what his father wanted of him. He was beginning to suspect that everyone felt like that. He'd heard enough sob stories from his johns, the ones that he'd managed to convince to 'just talk.' He was usually pretty good at picking them out in a crowd and coming on to them.

Trowa obviously thought he was tending to their physical needs in the bathroom, but more often than not, he was acting as little more than a drive-through pop psychologist.

Sure, he did give the occasional hand job, and sometimes oral sex was part of the deal as well, but ever since he'd gotten Heero sucked into the world of prostitution, he'd been unable to get it up for money.

And that ruled out sexual intercourse for money. Unlike Heero, he was seme only. It was a matter of personal safety. The one being penetrated ran the higher risk of contracting STDs.

He blamed himself for Heero's career choice, and didn't think he'd ever forgive himself for it, but on the other hand, he also knew that Heero had taken the first step in recognizing something about himself that Quatre had known long before crossing the California border.

Way to justify your actions, Quatre, he told himself.

Especially the one he kept trying to put out of his head, but was unable to forget. The memory grew more persistent every night that went by without Heero's presence in the apartment.

He'd taken to staying at the bar later each night, except that Trowa was starting to force him to face things.

Hiding your head in the sand, Quatre? That worked so well the first few months, now, didn't it? Remember how YOU got into the whole prostitution gig?

Yeah, he answered himself. And yet here I am again, the one place my head keeps getting yanked out of the nice comfortable hole in the sand.

A glutton for punishment.

He and Heero had much more in common than the means by which they earned a living.

~~~~~

Wufei looked up at the exterior of the building Meiran indicated. There wasn't even a sign overhead announcing its name. It could have been abandoned, if not for the light that was visible beyond the drawn curtains over a large glass window. If he peered through the glass in between the drapes, he could probably see the interior, but he wasn't about to do that.

"Are you SURE this is it?"

She snorted. "Trust me. The Wives have some pretty sleazy tastes. They aren't exactly genteel. If they were, Duo would never be able to cater to their sense of egoistic hedonism."

Wufei wanted to wince again. These were the women Meiran surrounded herself with while he and Duo lured people in?

Even in the dim light, she looked beautiful. Meiran always radiated strength, even when she was willing to admit defeat. By the time he'd woken up from his unscheduled nap, she was back from her jog. He'd been right about that much. She'd showered and was wearing nothing more than a robe and a towel around her hair when he walked into the bedroom.

It would have been so easy to slip his arms around her from behind, untie the belt holding the robe closed, and 'exercising his marital rights' as Duo would put it.

He'd been struck with a case of nerves, though, and he would swear that her movements were less fluid than normal, as if she'd strained every muscle in her body.

He'd almost wept with relief when it was time to go. The whole time he was performing his own ablutions and getting dressed, he felt like a grade school student waiting his turn to go out and recite his assigned bit of the Gettysburg Address in front of the entire school.

~~~~~

Heero shifted slightly, and Duo's arms loosened, allowing him to peel himself off the prone body beneath him.

He stepped under the shower spray and leaned his head forward, letting the water hit the back of his neck.

How the hell had Duo known he'd had lunch with Relena?

__

Kabe ni mimi ari, shoji ni me ari, an impish voice in his head reminded him, and he smiled ruefully. Wasn't that the truth.

Of all places for Relena to suggest having lunch, did it have to be a _hotel_? And he'd gone along with it, because it was a popular tourist place. What better way to blend in, right?

Milliardo Peacecraft's presence had made the idea of blending in seem ludicrous. Why he'd ever thought he could get away with it, he didn't know.

He'd been surprised to hear Peacecraft's voice behind him at the restaurant, but not really all that stunned about his 'blue eyes' comment. Hadn't he known that things were coming apart once Alvarez had recognized him? If Alvarez had, even for a moment, it was only a matter of time before others started to figure things out.

He remembered that stride that Peacecraft had. It was definitely reminiscent of the military, but there was more to it than that. It was exasperatingly familiar. The answer was probably painfully obvious. It would come to him eventually.

All those surprises, and he'd managed to keep his wits about him.

But he'd been caught completely off guard from the moment he saw Duo standing there in front of the desk. He was getting sloppy. Letting one's guard down was sometimes akin to painting big red and white concentric circles on the middle of one's forehead.

If the guys back home could only see him now. He winced. If he could help it, this particular chapter of his life would get swept under the rug and stay there.

He lifted his head and put his face directly under the spray, opening his mouth to catch what he could. He gargled and spit before leaning one hand against the wall and pressing his forehead to the tile.

This was his last job. He was done. He would talk to Quatre when the weekend was over. Things had gotten far out of hand, and he'd been the one to let them.

He wasn't sure if he meant the prostitution gig in general, or just the situation with Duo.

~~~~~

Meiran had insisted that they wear casual clothes, and Wufei had been skeptical until they'd entered the bar.

It really was nothing more than a bar. No theme, nothing fancy. 

The interior was cleaner than he would have assumed. Meiran pointed to a table near the bar, and he agreed immediately, because it was also close to the door, should he want to make a hasty escape.

He realized how superior that made him sound, but he didn't regret it. He wasn't accustomed to this part of Hollywood, and for all he knew, it could be the site of numerous illegal activities.

Meiran went to the bar and chatted for a few minutes with the bartender. Wufei didn't trust the man on sight. He didn't trust anyone whom he couldn't look in the eye, and he could barely tell what the man looked like, hiding behind his hair the way he was.

He was glad to see Meiran returning, but surprised to see her holding two beers.

In the bottle.

"Nothing on draft for us," she said with a grin. "And you never know when you'll need a weapon."

She was right. He was edgy, and he was grateful for the reassurance of the weight of the glass bottle in his hand, even though he didn't plan on following through with her teasing suggestion.

She tilted the bottle to her lips and took a long draw from it. He watched her throat as she swallowed, fascinated.

She gave him a sexy little smile as she slowly removed the bottle from her mouth. Then she WINKED at him.

He met the challenge in her eyes, tilted the bottle back, and did his best to drain it.

It was an incredibly careless, juvenile thing to do, but he hadn't competed with Meiran over something this stupid in years.

Perhaps he needed a bit of carelessness in his life at times.

And the beer certainly wouldn't hurt when it came time to talk.

~~~~~

Heero was still in the shower when Duo came in to use the bathroom. Since that morning when Heero had waited for Duo to finish in the bathroom, he'd remembered the other three bathrooms he had discovered during his reconnoiter of the suite. Just went to show how much Duo had put him off his game from day one.

The existence of multiple bathrooms meant there was no reason for Duo to need to use this one, other than the fact that it was the only one they'd been using all week.

He wasn't stupid. Well, that was still up for debate, but he wasn't naive. He could feel the moment Duo had withdrawn from him. Not physically, but he'd felt it all the same.

He shouldn't have opened his mouth, but he'd been genuinely concerned when he'd felt the tremor run through Duo's body. By speaking, he'd acknowledged that something had happened. Something in their relationship had changed, and Duo wasn't ready to accept it. Which was kind of funny considering he'd been the one driving the changes almost from the start.

Heero had known for the past couple of days that things were coming to a head, but he'd done his best to keep his distance, only to find himself constantly giving in to things that had nothing to do with their business arrangement.

When two people got drunk, and ended up falling into bed together, usually one or both would wake up the next day, feeling horrified at what they'd done. Instead of talking about it, or agreeing on how to handle the situation, both parties sometimes feigned ignorance. By mutually disavowing any knowledge of the incident, they could pretend it had never happened. An unspoken pact of shared selective amnesia.

But Heero had broken that unwritten rule. You never said anything until you looked into the other person's eyes. It was the only thing you had to go on to decide whether or not you were going to play the 'nothing happened' game or face up to what you'd done.

Shit. It was no wonder he had avoided drunken sex in college. Meaningless sex was fine as long as it was done between two consenting, completely sober, adults.

Meaningless sex.

His forehead was still pressed against the tile, and his eyes watched the water swirl around the drain until the contact lenses began to dry out with all the steam and his vision blurred.

If he hadn't already made the decision that this was going to be his last job, in this particular 'field of work,' he would have by now.

tbc

~~~~~

__

Kabe ni mimi ari, shoji ni me ari - the walls have ears, the doors have eyes.


	31. Reiki

****

The Edulcoration of Duo Maxwell - 31/?

~~~~~~~

Warnings: AU, yaoi, coarse language, violence, angst, cliffhanger endings, red herrings, various vices, random bits of useless knowledge, occasionally explicit sex.

Spoilers: None for GW, possibly not as many for Pretty Woman as I'd originally thought.

Disclaimer: I don't really need to be Captain Obvious here, do I? No ownership, no money being made, yadda yadda. Written for fun, not profit.

Archived at:   
http : // www . gundam-wing-diaries . 150m . com / gw / Mookie / gwmookie . htm  
http : // www . atsui . org

__

Edulcorate (verb) - To free from harshness (as of attitude); to soften

~~~~~~~

****

Chapter 31 - Reiki

Heero had always prided himself on his ability to take action when faced with insurmountable odds.

Mutually acknowledged selective amnesia, right?

He could work with that. Duo was obviously going to be receptive, because otherwise he would have chosen the bathroom furthest from this one.

Heero would have to improvise with what items were on hand, but in a hotel like this, he had no doubt that whatever he found would still be very high-end quality.

He dried off and wrapped a towel around his hips, then walked past Duo, who seemed almost fascinated with the draining water in the toilet. Heero wouldn't be surprised if Duo hadn't needed to use the bathroom at all.

Duo had an inquisitive mind. He'd be sure to follow. Given enough time, a mouse would brave the trap for the cheese.

You just had to figure out if the mouse preferred Roquefort or cheddar first.

Heero was fairly confident on that score.

~~~~~

Quatre wanted to hide behind the bar with Trowa when he saw Johnson enter the bar.

'Big' Johnson, as he'd insisted all the whores call him, had taken a break from female prostitutes a couple of months ago and started sniffing after Heero. Finally Heero agreed to take his money, but Johnson had been less than pleased when he realized Heero hadn't even gotten a hard-on. He'd taken it as a personal affront, which, knowing Heero, it probably was, and had tried to show his displeasure in a rather physical manner.

Heero had nearly broken the man's wrist, but had restrained himself, as he'd later told Quatre and Trowa, because he'd wanted to avoid having charges leveled against him. His contempt of the man was obvious, but he'd felt like that about everyone he accepted as a client. Although perhaps 'accepting' wasn't the right word for Heero.

Heero had stubbornly clung to his uke only role, and it worked in his favor, if attracting clients could be considered favorable. He was the dangerous looking one, and some men jumped at the chance to 'fuck him, and fuck him good,' as Johnson so crudely put it. Quatre, on the other hand, would not allow another man to penetrate him. He had hoped, on one occasion several months ago, to get over that little hangup, but nothing that had happened that night had gone the way he'd expected.

Quatre supposed his attraction lie at the extreme opposite end of the spectrum from Heero. His blond hair and large blue-green eyes made people think he was some kind of pure, wholesome, boy-next-door, and men exploring their need to be dominated were drawn to having someone who looked innocent be the one to take them. It was especially true for men who wanted to experiment with homosexuality, but were afraid to. He supposed they felt he was 'safe' in the same way everyone viewed Heero as 'dangerous.'

It bothered him. He hated being judged by the way he looked. Being kind-hearted and well-mannered back home had gotten him pegged as a queer, and that was ten times worse than earning the label because it was true. He'd gone out of his way to defy the stereotypes, giving up things he truly enjoyed if he thought they seemed girly, like playing the piano. Unless you were a drummer or a guitar player, musicians were treated like thespians. He didn't understand it. There was a world of difference between Billy Joel and Liberace.

Living just outside the Sin City did nothing to pave acceptance of 'alternative lifestyles.' Quatre had headed to San Francisco to see if it really was some kind of gay mecca, but Los Angeles was closer. Besides, Hollywood was full of celebrities coming out of the closet.

He really should have given more thought to how the hell he was going to earn a living when he got there, and he sure as hell should have made that decision based on more than an overwhelming feeling of spite. Spite towards whom, he was beginning to wonder. Seemed to be directed toward himself lately.

~~~~~

Meiran's face was flushed with laughter and a slight excess of alcohol by the time she finished her fourth beer. They'd tried beers from three different countries and gone from IPAs to stouts. Wufei managed to down more of the dark brown porter than Meiran had, and she hadn't been able to keep from making a face at the aftertaste.

Suddenly they both fell silent at the same time, and Meiran started picking at the label of her bottle.

He took one look around the bar. No one was paying attention to them.

He reached across the table and pulled her hands into his. The bottle she'd been toying with spun a few times but didn't tip over.

"When I started out as an attorney," he began, "I think I was under the impression I was going to save the world, from a legal standpoint."

She leaned forward in rapt attention as he talked.

He told her about the sense of fulfillment he had every time his client walked away a free man. She nodded, clearly remembering how things had been early in their marriage.

He told her how he'd prided himself on being able to judge the guilt or innocence of his clients. He would not accept a case if he thought he'd be setting a guilty man loose on the unsuspecting public.

Told her the entire story of that fateful day, when Treize Khushrenada had paraded one surprise witness after another. How the man had calmly torn apart Wufei's carefully constructed case. The way his client didn't look the tiniest bit apologetic that he'd not given Wufei all the information he needed to present a winning argument.

Losing the trial was a blow to his ego, but knowing his client had lied to him, and that he'd been so convinced of the man's innocence, had been a blow to his heart and soul. He had lost his ability to trust in anything. Himself, others. Even Meiran. Treize had become a symbol of all that he'd lost, not the actual source of the ache in his soul.

He'd quit his job shortly after that, but hadn't told Meiran right away. He just said he was thinking about it.

All the nights she worried he was considering pursuing an extramarital affair, he'd been trying to figure out what he was going to do with his life from that point on.

He hadn't realized until he saw the relief in her eyes that she'd actually suspected he might cheat on her.

That hurt even worse, until he recognized the disappointment in her eyes. Disappointment directed internally for even entertaining the idea that he might.

She'd known better, had trusted him, and had actually felt guilty for doubting him, when he'd given her nothing to base that trust on. Hadn't returned it.

"I'm sorry, Wufei," she said, squeezing the fingers that had entwined themselves with hers.

"You have nothing to apologize for," he said gruffly. "Trust is a two way street. My behavior at the time was abominable."

"You gave me a lifetime of reasons to trust you," she said, reminding him that they'd been friends long before he'd given her that first shy and awkward kiss.

He realized something, looking at her. She was incredibly beautiful. He'd always known she was physically attractive, but it was as if blinders had been removed from his eyes. He also noticed that the tight feeling in his gut, the one he thought might possibly be the beginnings of an ulcer, although he had refused to go to a doctor about it, was gone.

He freed one of his hands and brushed a lock of hair out of her eyes.

"One more round?" she said, her eyes holding a wealth of promises.

"You'll be under the table by then," he said, which was all she needed to hear to prompt her to prove him wrong.

"My turn to pick," she said, and got up. As she walked to the bar, he noticed that she was amazingly steady on her feet.

He hoped to change that later tonight.

~~~~~

Heero found what he was looking for in the room with the large sunken tub in it, and within minutes had a bath running. The hotel's liquid soap had a crisp clean scent, but Heero had wanted something a bit more soothing, so he opted for a moisturizing bath oil containing jasmine. It seemed as thought there were plenty of highly stressed hotel guests, because he saw a blend of rose, gardenia, and magnolia, too, for inner peace, according to the bottle. Too easy, he thought, setting that one aside.

Duo's use of the penthouse suite puzzled him. Duo did not own a car in LA, but rented, giving Heero reasons that sounded practical from a monetary point of view. But he had no compunctions about paying seven-and-a-half thousand dollars per night for a top-of-the-line room in what was one of most expensive hotels in all of Beverly Hills.

He'd recognized the aptness of Duo's name since Tuesday. Perhaps earlier than that. The man had a dual nature, and Heero was just starting to figure out what made up Duo and what made up one half of Maxwell-Chang Enterprises, Inc. Perhaps 'Trio' would have been a more fitting name, as it seemed there was a part that he couldn't recognize yet, even though the hints were there.

The part that had reacted violently to his defense of Relena Peacecraft, and yet had taken care to not suck hard enough to leave any telltale marks on his neck or chest. That suggested that Duo held a certain amount of respect for him.

He was running an arm through the water to test the temperature when the mouse decided to risk going after the cheese.

Heero tamped down a rather surprising urge to grin like a loon as he heard Duo's soft footsteps halt in the doorway.

Snap.

~~~~~

Lost in his reminiscing, Quatre didn't initially realize that Johnson had spotted him.

After Johnson had gone out of his way to tell everyone what a lousy lay Heero was, a ploy that did nothing to upset Heero or to hurt his business, he'd turned his attention to Quatre. Johnson had made it his mission to convince him to 'take it up the ass like a good boy.'

He would have been safe behind the bar, but he'd left Trowa on a bad note earlier.

You reap what you sow, Quatre.

He managed to hedge his way around some of the tables until he had a good view of the door. He glanced up at the security mirrors and then at Trowa, who was listening to a dark-haired woman.

The woman carried a couple of bottles over to one of the tables, and Johnson's attention was momentarily diverted by watching her ass as she walked.

Quatre thought he was home free and made a break for it.

Then Johnson's hand whipped out and grabbed his arm roughly.

"Playing hard to get, Quatre?" he leered, positioning his body to block the view of his hand squeezing the blond's groin briefly. "No, not yet," he laughed.

Quatre attempted to jerk his arm free without creating a scene. Like Heero, he'd put up with a fair amount of needless pawing to avoid police involvement. Unlike Heero, he couldn't intimidate with just a look.

Johnson's grip on his arm tightened, and Quatre wondered when his life had become a Lifetime movie. 'Rebellious teen runs away from home to become a hooker and finds life on the streets isn't all she'd dreamed.'

Tell me about it, sister, he thought wryly.

~~~~~

Wufei noticed the two men out of the corner of his eye. His lip curled in disgust as he realized the shorter one must be one of Heero's ilk.

What possessed these men to whore themselves he couldn't imagine.

Then he remembered what he'd done to his own ideals and had to acknowledge that Meiran had been right.

Which was worse, selling your body, or your beliefs?

He glanced at Meiran, whose eyes were starting to glaze over, although her smile was wide. If he didn't know her, he wouldn't suspect that she was three sheets to the wind right now. Meiran hadn't had a drink since they graduated college. In fact, if he'd just wandered into the bar, he'd have mistaken her for a university student. Her casual attire and pleasantly relaxed features reminded him of a much younger Meiran.

His soul was not for sale, he realized. If ever he decided it was not worth keeping, he knew someone who would cherish it.

Almost without thinking, he got up from the chair and walked over to the two men.

And the selling of one's body was not going to happen on his watch, either.

Sorry, buddy.

~~~~~

Heero stood up and let the towel fall to the floor. With his back toward Duo, he picked it up and folded it several times, then placed it on the tiled floor behind the tub. He finally turned toward Duo and knelt on the impromptu cushion he'd created.

Duo didn't need to be told twice. He moved slowly, with a bit of hesitation, and climbed into the tub. He turned his back to Heero and slowly let his body sink beneath the warm water.

Heero poured some of the bath oil into his hand and rubbed his palms together vigorously.

He'd been told he was very good at this, not that he'd ever doubted himself. He placed his hands on Duo's shoulders, sliding his fingers outward and bringing his thumbs together.

He began kneading the heels of his hands at the top of Duo's spine, and this time he allowed the briefest of smiles to curl his upper lip when Duo leaned his head forward and pulled his braid into the water in front of him, providing Heero with greater access.

When the body was at ease, Heero thought, slowly working his way down Duo's back, the mind was more inclined to follow.

~~~~~

It happened so fast, Wufei had no time to blink.

One minute, he had pried the big oaf's hand off the male whore's arm, and in the next, he found himself pushed up against the wall, a hand threatening to cut off his oxygen. He had barely had time to catch the flash of movement when the bartender had flown over the bar to intervene.

He looked into a pair of blazing green eyes and attempted to demand what was going on, but he couldn't draw in enough of a breath to do so. If he'd been expecting it, he probably could have held his own, but the man was damned fast.

His captor broke eye contact to glare at the real assailant, who was nursing either a bloody nose or a black eye.

"Trowa," a quiet voice said. "Trowa, I'm all right. He was only trying to help."

The bartender, Trowa, Wufei's fading consciousness reminded him, slowly released him.

Meiran had remained uninvolved, but looked at him with shining eyes. She was smart enough to stay out of it, perhaps overly confident in his abilities to handle the situation. He might have appreciated her losing her temper for a change when it came time to haul off and punch someone whose last name WASN'T Chang, though.

Trowa turned to Johnson and looked at him with contempt.

"You are banned from this establishment," he said coldly. "Get out before I call the police."

Johnson was outraged. He wanted to tell Trowa to go right ahead, because he'd been the one attacked. He also would love nothing more than to get the cops involved. The blond would be sure to go to jail, and he'd find out the hard way what it was like to get fucked up the ass. At least he would have _paid_ the bitch.

But he also knew that if he were caught, chances were good they'd do a bit of investigating into his background, and find things in his past that he hadn't yet paid his dues to society for. His prints were on file, after all.

Trowa had no way of knowing for sure, but the look in his eyes suggested he'd cheerfully do more than drive his nose into his skull if he so much as protested.

He could promise himself to wait for a time when he could accost Quatre outside the bar, but with the way his luck was running, he'd run into the blond's nameless, frigid, slut friend.

Psychos, all of them. And he'd known quite a few, so he felt confident in his assessment.

He settled for leveling a glare at everyone who had been witness to his humiliation, and walked out.

He wouldn't really be violating his parole as long as he didn't cross state borders. Maybe he'd head toward Fresno this time. He'd heard it was nice there this time of year.

~~~~~

Meiran's eyes were wide as she stared at her husband. Wufei ran a hand over his throat, and received an ambiguous look and a shrug from the bartender. He assumed that was an apology of sorts.

He was surprised to see the man do nothing more than return to his position behind the bar, ignoring the blond man whose defense Wufei had sworn he'd just come to.

Perhaps he just didn't like to see altercations in his pub. He had vaulted over the bar like it was a frequent occurrence.

This was exactly why he avoided places like this. Public displays of any kind made him uncomfortable.

He looked at Meiran again, and was stunned at the expression on her face. She looked downright worshipful.

He reached a hand to her, and she accepted it, then he pulled her to her feet. The beers he'd consumed earlier warmed him as he brought her body flush against hers.

He could always blame his high blood alcohol content. He put a hand to the side of her face, closed his eyes, and kissed her.

He should have been embarrassed, but then she returned the kiss with enthusiasm.

The years seemed to slip away, and his arms went around her. Either the sight of two people engaged in a passionate lip lock was common enough here that it was nothing to garner attention, or he simply didn't care.

Some things were of secondary importance.

Of primary importance was the feeling that he was falling in love with his wife all over again.

~~~~~

Heero watched Duo's body language and waited for the right moment to alter his position from kneeling to sitting on the edge of the tile with his feet in the water. It made his massage less effective, at least in terms of releasing the tension in Duo's muscles, but it had the desired effect. Duo was not rebuffing the almost accidental contact Heero's bare legs made with his body.

Several minutes later Duo moved forward enough to enable Heero to slip into the water behind him. His hands moved to Duo's lower back, and Heero would swear he heard Duo sigh.

Nonverbal cues were often ambiguous, but Duo's very nature seemed a study in ambiguity.

Eventually his knuckles stopped pressing into Duo's back and he moved his hands around to Duo's abdomen. He wrapped his arms around Duo and rested his chin on the other man's shoulder.

One of Duo's hands came up to cover Heero's, and the two of them were content to sit there, not speaking, until the water cooled.

~~~~~

Quatre stared at the gauze that was unraveling from his hand as he held the drink aloft.

The man who Trowa had assaulted and his female companion had just left. Johnson was gone. People were paying him no attention. Perfect time to slip out and get back home.

The amber liquid beckoned him. Heero had looked at his drinks that way often, before he'd started turning tricks. What had Heero seen in the golden depths when he had that look on his face? Shattered dreams, a destroyed past, forsaken hope?

The glass was removed from his hand and set down on the table with a firm thunk.

He turned in his chair and glared at Trowa, who had the slightest look of disapproval on his face.

He hadn't sorted out how he'd felt about being treated like a damsel in distress, and Trowa's presence wasn't helping matters just yet.

"You don't drink," Trowa said in that annoyingly calm voice of his. "Said it 'makes things worse,'" he added, illustrating with the well-known gesture for quotation marks.

Quatre seethed. It was just like Trowa to act like nothing had happened. First he thinks he has the right to interfere with a possible business transaction, forget that he'd not give Johnson the time of day even if he were starving. Now he thought he could dictate whether or not Quatre could indulge in any vices? He reached for the glass out of sheer obstinacy, only to have Trowa cover it with one hand.

Not a chance.

He stood up and glared at Trowa for all he was worth.

"You're not my mother," he growled. "Nor my lover."

Trowa's eyes darkened, and he grabbed Quatre's wrist before the blond could repeat the disappearing act he'd been cultivating. Quatre wondered if it had been a conscious move on Trowa's part to choose the hand that had been holding the glass a moment ago.

"That's right, Quatre, I'm not." His eyes were nearly black now. "So were you ever going to tell me that you fucked Heero?"

tbc

~~~~~

The chapter title, _reiki_, typically refers to Reiki (sometimes capitalized, other times, not). To oversimplify things, it's a spiritual or energy healing method, often translated as "universal life force energy." The word can also be translated as an established rule, a chill, an electrical excitation, or an aura in general.


	32. Red Threads

The Edulcoration of Duo Maxwell - 32/?

Warnings: AU, yaoi, coarse language, violence, angst, cliffhangers, red herrings, mention of various vices, random bits of useless knowledge, nonexplicit male/male sex.

Spoilers: None for GW, and I'm now quite convinced almost nada for Pretty Woman.

Disclaimer: I don't really need to be Captain Obvious here, do I? No ownership, no money being made, yadda yadda. Written for fun, not profit.

Archived at:  
http : www . atsui . org  
http : www . gundam-wing-diaries . 150m . com / gw / Mookie / gwmookie . htm

Edulcorate (verb) - To free from harshness (as of attitude); to soften

Chapter 32 - Red Threads

Quatre had finally given up trying to hustle any customers when he headed for The Bar. It had been a long unproductive night, at least in terms of plying his so-called trade.

He'd gotten halfway there when he felt something. He frowned, looking around. It was as if someone had brushed past him, but no one had come all that close to him.

He brushed his arm to rid himself of the feeling, but it did nothing to help.

He'd thought this shit only happened when he drank. Maybe he was coming down with something.

His feet led him down an alley, and it wasn't until he reached the dumpster when his mind caught up with him. What the hell had he been thinking? He knew better than to put himself in a position of vulnerability like this.

Then he heard it. A soft unmistakable click.

He cursed his curiosity and hoped it didn't get him killed.

He peered around the dumpster and saw the figure in shadows, slumped against the wall. He had one arm wrapped around himself with his hand shoved into his jacket. The other hand dangled lifelessly at his side.

Alarms were going off in Quatre's brain, but he approached the man anyway.

"Are you OK?"

The man didn't seem to realize he was there, whispering to himself and shivering. Quatre thought he heard something about blood.

"Are you hurt? Bleeding? Were you stabbed?" He looked around again to see if anyone else was in the alley.

He hadn't expected the harsh laughter that he got in response. It made him take a step back. He was tempted to turn and leave, and pretend he'd never been lured between the two buildings by some quirk of fate.

"My fault," the man whispered. "Wasn't there when I should have been. Lied to her."

If there was one thing Quatre knew quite well, it was self-loathing.

He was still pretty good at making a convincing argument, so he took a deep breath and started talking.

* * *

"Where do you people go to meet each other?" Duo asked suddenly.

"We people?"

"You know. Gays."

"Ah," Heero said. "Well, first we go to the pub on thoroughbred gerbil racing nights and lament the waste. Then we play disco music and paint each other's toenails. The person whose foot is in your lap when the Village People track comes on is yours for the night. Except during a leap year when it's the night of a new moon."

Duo turned around and gave him a half-hearted glare, and Heero couldn't help smiling that little half-smile of his before Duo settled back between his legs.

"Why do you assume I'm some expert on gay culture?" he asked.

"Don't you need to know that sort of thing?"

"Why? Because I'm a whore?"

"NO! Because...because you're gay!"

"I never said that."

This time Duo turned full around and stared at him. "But you were...you said...what was with that 'for five hundred bucks I'll change your mind' shit you fed me Sunday night?"

Heero motioned for him to turn back around and sit, which he did so reluctantly. He had no doubt Heero was going to be stubborn if he didn't.

"I didn't say I _wasn't_ gay, either. Duo, not everyone comes out of the womb knowing which sex they'd most like to fuck."

"_Are_ you?" Duo's voice held a hint of anxiety.

Heero wanted to ask him if it weren't obvious, considering that Duo had managed to bring him to orgasm on more than one occasion, but he had a feeling that wasn't what he needed to hear right now.

"Yes, Duo. I'm gay. I used to think perhaps I was bisexual, but I'm definitely leaning toward the fag end of the spectrum."

Despite Heero's deliberate teasing, Duo felt a wave of relief wash over him. The idea that he'd been reevaluating his entire sexuality, only to find out that the man responsible was straight, was unthinkable.

He supposed that Heero had a point. In his 'line of work' his own tastes would often come second, and men were more inclined to pay for sex than women were. He wondered at the assumption that hookers actually enjoyed the sex.

That reminded him of something Heero had said that first day.

"Do you really have female...'clients?'" he asked.

"No."

"Why not?"

"I don't do penetration. I told you that. _Uke_ only. With women, there is only one way to have sex, regardless if you enter vaginally or anally." Duo could feel Heero shrug. "Granted, there is oral sex, but cunnilingus is just as perilous in terms of contracting sexually transmitted diseases. I don't mind a condom in my mouth when I'm sucking someone off, but I won't wear a dental dam."

That hadn't exactly been the answer Duo was looking for, but it did make him wonder why Heero had set up all these rules for himself. The kissing rule he hated to admit he could understand, having told Heero as much earlier in the week, but to turn down an opportunity to fuck women for money? It had to be easier than taking it up the ass on a regular basis. Heero's explanations and precautions regarding STDs seemed almost contradictory to his actions at other times. Fuck me hard enough to make me bleed, but wear a condom. Don't kiss me, but make sure you prepare me first so that I don't tear.

"Besides," Heero said. "It's just wrong to treat a woman like nothing more than a vessel."

Duo wasn't quite sure how he felt about that.

* * *

The cell phone was ringing. Sally cracked open her eyes and fumbled for it in the dark, nearly sending it skittering across the nightstand and under the bed before her fingers closed around it. She pulled it under the covers with her.

"Po." Her voice was still muzzy with sleep.

"Sally! I'm sorry to call you so late..."

"Not that late," she said, clearing her throat. "Just been a long day." The clock's face glowed 10:03. So it was seven o'clock, Iria's time.

"I was so caught up with the inconclusive test results, I forgot to tell you what I'd found on the medical side of things."

Sally sat up. Her partner had noticed that, too, not long after the conversation with Iria had ended, but they both knew that there was no point in trying to contact Iria right away. Finally Sally had decided to call it a night and had headed to the furnished apartment she was using during her temporary assignment.

"The drug is undetectable, but it's already out there. We've gotten patients in the E/R exhibiting symptoms, but tests come back negative on any signs of substance abuse."

"Do you know if it's restricted to just the Vegas area?"

"Difficult to say," Iria replied. "Anything goes in Las Vegas, and there are so many damn tourists, it's next to impossible to determine if it's been here all along or is trickling in."

"Any colleagues of yours that you recommend I contact on this side of the country?"

"Let me get back to you on that. I know it's not very much to go on, but I wanted to let you know in case it sends your investigation in a different direction."

"Acknowledged," Sally said. "Your assistance is invaluable, as always, Iria."

"I'll call you tomorrow."

"Roger."

Sally hung up the phone and tossed it to the foot of the bed. Next time it rang, she'd kick it to the floor.

Hell. No, she wouldn't. Unfortunately she shared her partner's dedication to their investigation. She'd be glad to have something concrete, something that would enable more resources to be allocated to the case.

Without evidence, it was just another rumor. Maybe these E/R patients would be the piece they needed to get things kicked into a higher gear.

She pulled the pillow over her head. She should have listened to her father and stayed in med school.

* * *

Meiran couldn't keep her hands off him once they'd managed to hail a taxi. She didn't quite climb into his lap, but he was beginning to think she might.

He knew once they got back to the apartment, there wouldn't be much talking going on, and for the most part, he was all talked out.

He did, however, want to tell her one thing. Her lips at his ear made it very hard for him to remember what it was, though.

"Meiran," he said, his voice shaky. "I am so very sorry."

"Mmm," she said, nuzzling his neck. "I look forward to your making it up to me."

He closed his eyes. Another couple of beers and he might have been tempted to straddle her here in the back of the cab. Wasn't the woman the one who was expected to put the brakes on lust? He didn't want to be the one to act responsibly. Not now.

"That stupid car." He ended on a groan as Meiran actually placed her hand between his legs and kneaded his crotch.

He was trying to be noble, and his wife was making him very hard. IT, his mind laughed hysterically. She was making IT very hard. DIFFICULT! She was making it very difficult to be noble.

How the hell far was it to the apartment, anyway?

"I'll sell the car," he blurted out. "I know you've always hated it as an obscene waste of resources. I know that the money could be spent on bettering...THINGS." She had just pinched one of his nipples through his shirt.

"Meiran!" he hissed, glancing at their driver, who seemed to not notice anything amiss.

"We can use the money to HELP-" he lost his train of thought as she slid her hand under his shirt.

"Go on," she said. She was LAUGHING at him. "To help whom?"

"To help...whoever it is that you think needs it."

She pulled her hand away and sat next to him, looking prim and proper with her hands folded into her lap, except for her mussed hair and rumpled shirt.

"Whomever I say needs it, right?"

"Yes."

She moved away from him on the seat, leaned her back against the door and turned to face him.

"Wufei, would you say that the money you spent on 'that stupid car' has put a significant dent in our bank accounts?"

He shook his head. Of course he didn't. The car was the envy of almost everyone, but he'd never have spent over half a million dollars on it if he'd thought it even remotely possible that it would come back and bite him in the ass.

She leaned over the seat, resting one hand on his leg. He didn't trust the predatory look on her face.

"I know who needs help. Help that only that car can provide."

He swallowed. What was she up to, and would it involve his being humiliated at some sort of fund raising dunk-the-CEO booth or some other such nonsense? She didn't expect him to use the Enzo as a meals-on-wheels delivery vehicle, did she?

She slid her hand up his thigh slowly and pressed her lips to his ear.

"Duo didn't really christen the backseat, you know."

He hadn't thought so, either, but he'd been so furious at the idea that Duo was allowing himself to be played the fool, he hadn't given the comment a second thought. Until now.

"Ever do it in a million dollar car before?" she whispered.

He hadn't, but if the taxi driver didn't get them home soon, he was almost positive he was going to in a Checker Cab.

* * *

Quatre nearly fainted from relief when he'd managed to convince the dark-haired man to accompany him the few blocks to the bar.

He signaled Trowa to bring over a couple of beers, deciding the stranger could use something to drink, but not wanting to give him anything stronger. Besides, he knew how well a few sips could loosen lips. 

In vino veritas. 

_The stranger was reticent the whole time they were there, but Trowa had been remarkably unsurprised when Quatre invited the man to his apartment. Had merely taken a good long look at the brooding figure and seemed satisfied with whatever he was searching for._

_When they arrived at the apartment, Quatre had seated him on the couch, on the cushion that wasn't covering the broken spring. Then Quatre had crouched next to him and touched his arm tentatively._

_The man looked up at him, his eyes full of anguish. Before Quatre realized what he was doing, he'd leaned toward the stranger, steadying himself with one hand on the arm of the sofa, and kissed him._

* * *

Duo finally got out of the tub, the tips of his fingers wrinkled and his skin cold. He chose to walk back to the bathroom inside the main bedroom for a quick shower. He had to wash his hair and wanted to have his own conditioner for that.

It had nothing to do with the fact that he was beginning to associate the way it smelled with Heero.

While Duo showered, Heero did no more than stand under a cool spray of water in the room with the tub, just long enough to rinse the bath water from his skin.

Things would never be the same after the week was over, but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. It felt like he'd spent a lifetime within the penthouse suite of the Regent Beverly Wilshire. Perhaps he had. A mayfly lived its entire life in a span of twenty-four hours. He wasn't a mayfly, but perhaps...perhaps he was more a pupal _danaus plexippus_.

Kitty would be laughing her ass off if she could only hear him now.

The pang in his heart wasn't quite so bad this time.

* * *

"How...how did you know?"

Trowa released his grip on Quatre's wrist.

"I'd like to say that I didn't, and you just told me," he said. "But it's been obvious you've been in love with him since he started fucking for money." He gave Quatre a once over.

"Isn't that about the time you'd stopped?"

"Trowa..."

The taller man's face was completely impassive, his eyes shuttered and no longer the jungle green shade they'd darkened to moments before.

"It was an accident!"

He thought he detected a hint of disbelief in Trowa's expression, and hurriedly tried to explain.

"He was...a gaping wound, Trowa!"

"And fucking is your way of helping people."

Quatre frowned. Hadn't Trowa just acknowledged his feelings for Heero? It hadn't been like that.

He had been beating himself up ever since it happened, regretting his suggestion that he be the first one to take Heero, wanting Heero to enjoy it, just once, before he peddled his ass on the street.

It had been clear that he and Heero were talking about two entirely different things that first night. And it all started with that damn kiss.

* * *

It was the briefest brush of lips, chaste in its brevity, but no less meaningful to Quatre.

He leaned back and blinked, completely stupefied that he'd done that.

The dark-haired man touched his lips curiously.

"Why did you do that?"

His voice was deep and sent a spike of lust through Quatre's entire body. He stood up, not trusting himself to look into the stranger's pained blue eyes.

"I couldn't help myself," he said honestly. He walked into the kitchen. "Can I get you something to drink?" he asked, desperate for something to do to distract him from the temptation on the sofa.

"What are you hiding from?"

Quatre froze, one hand on the refrigerator handle. He was afraid to turn around.

"Excuse me?"

"You're running from something."

The man had just met him, and knew more about him than those with whom he'd shared an intimate act.

An intimate act that was so far removed from any sort of real intimacy, it was laughable.

"How do you get by?"

That question he could answer. It was safer than the alternative. He ignored the part of his brain that knew what the question really meant, and chose to answer the one he was comfortable with.

"Sex, baby," he said, the words sounding hollow to his own ears.

"What's your name?"

"Quatre. Quatre Raberba." He bit his tongue before he gave any more than that away. Fortunately his middle name was unusual enough that it could very well have been his surname.

He thought for a moment he might have to ask the same question in return, but then the stranger offered the information freely.

"Heero," he said. "You can call me Heero."

And Quatre knew then that he'd been entrusted with something the man would not provide just anyone. Not yet.

The question was, how much more would Heero trust him?

* * *

As soon as the door to their apartment was closed, Meiran plastered herself against Wufei, and he pressed her against the door, their kisses hot and open mouthed.

"You're drunk," he said in between gasps of air.

"Not that drunk," she returned, demonstrating her coordination by deftly unbuttoning his shirt.

He pulled away from her, and as he'd expected, her hands followed him. They stripped each other of every layer of clothing, shedding each article as they made their way to the bedroom.

"You were amazing. You ARE amazing," she said, running her fingers over his chest once they'd reached the edge of bed.

"Meiran," he said. "I love you."

Her eyes showed how much hearing him say that meant to her, but she surprised him by saying, "you'd better."

"I'm sorry, Meiran, for everything that's been going on this week," he blurted out. "It's just that..." she was kissing his ear again. Damn it, the woman KNEW that was one of his sensitive spots.

"Duo..." he tried again.

She bit the lobe gently. It seemed to be a new habit of hers, but he wasn't complaining.

"There is no room for anyone except the two of us in this bed," she said. "No Duo. No Milliardo Peacecraft. Just you and me. Duo is a big boy." She slid one hand down his chest until she reached his groin.

"But I'm only interested in making one particular boy...BIG."

He pushed her onto the bed. He'd show her who was a 'boy.' Before the sun came up, she'd know she'd been in bed with a man.

And this time, he would believe it himself.

* * *

Heero dressed himself in a pair of loose drawstring pants that were provided by the hotel, and would most likely show up on Duo's bill, and walked into the central room of the suite.

He looked at Duo's laptop, and then at the carrying case containing the portable one he'd designed. His feet carried him to the balcony again.

Things were spinning out of control, but he still felt that, all in all, there was only one inevitable conclusion. He'd do his best to make the journey there bearable, although whether it would be bearable for himself or for Duo, he wasn't quite sure.

He was going to have to face up to what had happened with Quatre, too.

He'd appreciated it. Had even enjoyed it. He'd known that had been Quatre's intent. He had really been horrified when Heero announced that he was going to try to follow in Quatre's footsteps, as it were.

When he realized Heero was completely serious, he'd looked him straight in the eye and decided there was no changing his mind.

"Let me make it good for you, just once," he'd said.

Duo had wanted to make it good for him, too. What was it that made him capitulate at those words when said by some people, but not by others?

For the longest time, Kitty had been the only one who seemed interested in his well being. His parents didn't count. Parents were supposed to look out for their children. It wasn't optional.

He shook his head. Easy for him to say. His parents had always been supportive, even when he defied their expectations. There was a mutual respect between them, and he knew that he'd often taken it for granted. They'd want to disown him if they knew what he was doing now, but he knew they wouldn't.

His relationship with Kitty was different. He didn't have to love her. He didn't have to protect her. Didn't have to learn Spanish for her.

He'd WANTED to do all those things.

Heero wasn't the type of person to get close to people. His upbringing had been unconventional, he supposed. His mother was the more demonstrative of his parents, but she'd also been afraid of making him too dependent on others, wanting him able to stand on his own and avoid throwing his life away for something as fleeting as love.

He hadn't known until just last year that that fear was a result of her own brother's actions, who had dropped out of college and eloped the year she'd entered high school.

His parents' backgrounds were so dissimilar, it sometimes surprised Heero that they'd ever gotten together. However, despite what his mother felt on the topic of love and affection, it was clear that his parents were deeply in love. He'd caught the occasional glimpse of them sharing a look of tenderness so strong it made his heart ache.

He felt ashamed at those moments, feeling as if he'd cultivated his relationship with Kitty just to have someone for whom HE cared just as much.

Kitty would never have allowed it, he admitted. She would have seen right through him. He HAD cared for her. Ever since her parents had come home from the hospital with their new baby wrapped in swaddling, Heero had been enthralled. When Kitty's mom saw his open mouthed look of fascination as he stood in his front yard gaping, she'd invited him to come over so she could introduce him to Esperanza Candida Vargas Milagro.

He'd been taken by surprise at the length of the name, having only two of his own. It wasn't until years later that he'd understood the tradition behind Latin American surnames. To further confuse him, Esperanza was the only child in the Vargas Milagro family that had a 'middle' name.

He remembered the day she'd tried to get him to tell her what 'Heero' meant, and he realized he wasn't really sure himself, his parents having chosen an unconventional spelling for it.

* * *

"What do you mean, you don't know? You know everything!"

He shook his head. "Not everything, Kitty-chan."

As he'd expected, she was easily distracted by the unfamiliar form of address.

"What?"

"Kitty-chan."

"What does that mean?"

He explained the use of the affectionate 'honorific' and then was forced to explain the concept behind those.

"It's a means of showing respect or affection when addressing someone," he said. "For example, calling your father Señor Vargas. My father would be addressed as either Yuy-san, or Yuy-sama, depending on where you fall hierarchically."

She rolled her eyes. "So which one means you're all hoity-toity?"

He shook his head. "It's not really about someone acting superior," he said. "It's just a way of according respect."

"So if I just want to address him as Mr. Yuy?"

"Yuy-san."

"What about you, 'Niisan_? Are you Yuy-san?"_

He laughed. "Not to you, I'm afraid."

She seemed quite pleased with that answer, but looked at him suspiciously when he continued, "although you can call me Yuy-sama anytime."

"I am DEFINITELY not going to call you that," she huffed. "So if you were to guess, what would you say your name meant? I'm only asking you to take a guess."

She could be tenacious when she got an idea in her head.

"Hmmm. Well, hiro_ could mean hero," he began, laughing at the way she rolled her eyes. She always seemed so disappointed at Japanese words that were too much like their English counterparts. "_Hirou_...wickedness and vulgarity."_

She smacked him. "You can do better than that."

"I'm not making this up."

"Puh-LEEZE," she said. "As if...YUY-SAN...would name his son something like that."

His eyes danced with laughter. "It could mean fatigue, or weariness." She scowled at that one. "Or a fathom." That got another roll of the eyes. "Could also mean an opening of one's heart."

She waved a hand to show she had heard enough.

"So you are a wicked, vulgar, really DEEP hero possessing an open heart. Got it."

He laughed when she added, "so if it's all the same, I think I'll just keep calling you 'Niisan 

* * *

Since then, he hadn't spent that much time analyzing a name until meeting Duo.

He turned from the balcony and headed for the loveseat. Where else was he going to sit? The damn thing should be bronzed for all it had endured so far this week.

Many of the adjectives he'd given Kitty when she'd asked for a literal translation of his name could apply to Duo as well.

Wicked and vulgar? When the occasion called for it. Fatigued? Duo threw himself into his work, that much was obvious. Deep? Most certainly. He might even be willing to concede the hero part, considering that Duo sometimes seemed to be operating on a sense of saving Heero from...from what, he wasn't sure, but now and then, Heero would swear that was Duo's intent, even though there was precious little to base that on.

As for last...

The jury was still out on that one.

* * *

Trowa remained unconvinced, and Quatre felt he was fighting a losing battle. Trowa had a hell of a nerve, to act like he had any right to dictate how he felt.

"Maybe I do love him," he said. "And maybe I did want to get in his pants. The guy screams sex, if you hadn't noticed."

Trowa's eyes narrowed, and Quatre wanted to bite his lip. Don't antagonize the straight, he thought unfairly. Trowa had never treated him, or Heero, like they were beneath him. At least he hadn't until recently, and all his animosity was aimed at Quatre.

Why was Trowa so upset about the situation with Heero? Quatre would have thought he'd be happy that at least once, his friends had managed to have sex, to 'make love,' because they'd wanted it, and not because they were getting paid.

And he had wanted it. He'd wanted it so much he could taste it. He'd only been half kidding when he suggested that, if Heero was so gung-ho on the whole streetwalker thing, that he at least initiate himself into it with someone who could 'show him the ropes.' He'd wanted it so very badly, the thought alone had him rock hard in seconds.

When Heero had turned those heart-melting eyes on him and said, "OK," Quatre had stopped breathing.

He'd hadn't been kidding when he'd said he wanted to show Heero how good it could feel, but he'd also forced himself to explain to him how to insure he was properly prepared prior to having sex and what precautions were needed.

After that, he'd wanted Heero to return the favor, but that's when Heero had announced that he was going to take the submissive role only. Quatre wasn't sure if Heero knew he had just been about to ask Heero to take him, or if Heero had decided that he'd learned enough, or if there was some reason known only to Heero for his pronouncement.

With his clients, Quatre had never enjoyed sex the way he had with Heero. It had been so different, doing it with someone he cared for. He'd barely known Heero for a week, but he'd known from the moment just before he kissed him that their lives were inexplicably intertwined.

He supposed it was because he was still young that he'd thought he'd found that special someone. He had suspected that perhaps Heero was straight, but when he'd agreed to let Quatre take him, and had responded so enthusiastically, he'd known then that Heero had just discovered he was not entirely heterosexual.

Having shown Heero what lovemaking could be between two men, and finding out for himself as well, had sent him head over heels in love.

Why couldn't Trowa understand that?

* * *

Duo rubbed a generous amount of conditioner into his hair and then ran his fingers through it from scalp to ends, wincing as he hit a snag. Fortunately the braid went a long way in keeping the hair from getting knotted.

He wondered, not for the first time, why he didn't just cut it all off.

There was really no reason to keep it this long. He'd grown it out in his teens as a show of defiance against his mother, and then had become rather fond of the attention it got him from the girls at school.

He also realized it gave people a distinct first impression, and they tended to underestimate him, assuming that he was somehow weak or feminine.

Obviously those people hadn't heard of Samson.

But Duo had, and he knew better than to avoid getting involved with Delilah.

His hair was a major pain most of the time, but that didn't mean he hated it. Sometimes it took a lot of work, more work that he wanted to put into it at times, but in the end he still had a head of hair that made most women green with envy.

That wasn't why he refused to cut it, but it was nice to see the expressions on their faces. Half of them wanted nothing more than the opportunity to see Duo wearing nothing more than his unbound hair.

He thought of Janet's comment the other day and actually felt himself blush, something he hadn't done when he'd walked in on that conversation.

The girl had surprised him. She was nothing like what he'd expected. She looked and acted like a complete twit at first glance, but her mind was sharp and she was damned intuitive, too. Now that his anger at the news she'd imparted earlier had abated somewhat, he could see that she'd taken a chance of looking foolish by telling them of Milliardo Peacecraft's little lunchtime run-in.

She'd known it was important somehow. Duo respected that. Sometimes when he and Wufei were sitting on the fence over how they wanted a deal to progress, it was Duo who trusted his instincts.

How had he not noticed earlier that he was the one who made those decisions? Wufei was confident as hell when the facts were clear, but if it came to acting on a hunch, the man yielded to Duo.

It was so out of character for Wufei, Duo was stunned to realize how long that had been going on.

He would be glad when the weekend was over and he was back on his way to New York. He was beginning to regret ever hearing the name "Peacecraft."

After he'd showered and thrown on a robe, he found Heero sitting on the loveseat, one leg bent at the knee with the foot almost resting in his lap.

He looked so casual and relaxed, it was hard to remember the reasons he was here in the first place.

How bad would it be to pretend, just for one night, that the rest of the week hadn't happened?

He picked up the remote control and turned it on. Nothing like some mindless television to distract one's attention from the real issues.

* * *

Quatre felt near tears at this point. He felt things were going to come crashing down on him, and losing Trowa's respect hurt in ways he couldn't imagine. It was worse than knowing he and Heero would never be to each other what he'd hoped.

Once he'd made love to Heero, he found he just couldn't do it anymore. Couldn't mar the memory of that one night with Heero by repeating the act for money. Found it impossible to get into the act with his johns, so he had to settle for manual and oral stimulation to provide them with what they were seeking. Fortunately for him, most guys didn't have any trouble finding willing bed partners, but a good deep throater was hard to come by, no pun intended.

When Heero came back to the apartment at the end of the week, he would talk to him. Maybe the two of them could start over somewhere new. Not as lovers, but as friends.

He knew it wasn't likely, but he could dream.

Trowa seemed to have heard enough. He walked to the bar, and Quatre followed, unsure of what to do next.

Trowa turned and handed him a bottle, then inclined his head toward the door.

"Get out," he said. "You want to drown your sorrows, do it elsewhere. And for God's sake, at least be sure you know what you're drinking."

Quatre left the bar and walked home.

It wasn't until he'd climbed the stairs and entered the apartment, setting the bottle on the kitchen table and practically falling into one of the chairs, that he realized that Trowa could lose his liquor license over something like that.

Then he winced. If he were so concerned about Trowa's bar, he'd never have taken advantage of the fact that the man hadn't once carded him. Not ever.

He was afraid to analyze the implications of that. Trowa seemed to know a lot more than he'd given him credit for.

* * *

Relena Peacecraft didn't think she'd ever fall asleep. She'd been staring at the ceiling since she climbed into bed.

Milliardo had listened to her.

She wished she felt confident in her abilities, but it could have been a mere fluke. Her brother had been furious when he'd found her with Heero. When he'd said something about Heero's eyes, she'd at first thought perhaps they'd met somewhere before, but if that were the case, Milliardo would have confronted him sooner.

Yet her brother seemed unnaturally antagonistic toward Heero for some reason. She didn't think it was entirely because of Duo Maxwell.

She supposed she could understand, to an extent. Even though they were only there as diners, the restaurant was situated in a hotel. That carried all sorts of implications, none of them very flattering a well-bred young woman.

She'd told Heero that she trusted her brother, but she wondered if Milliardo trusted her.

He must, just a little. He HAD listened to her.

She had a feeling that might not last. She was going to need reinforcements.

She thought again about the tensing in her brother's frame when she'd explained Heero's theory.

He wasn't going to be happy with her when he found out what she had in mind, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

He'd trusted her once. She hoped like hell that faith didn't turn out to be misplaced.

* * *

On screen, Robert Downey, Jr., as Julian, was servicing male clients as a prostitute in order to obtain money to support his drug habit.

Duo was stretched out on the floor, propped on his elbows in a position he used to assume as a child when he'd settle down for a marathon session of old black and white movies. He couldn't resist sneaking a glance at Heero to gage his reaction.

Heero looked absolutely stricken. Duo was taken aback by that, and quickly turned his attention back to the screen.

"Seen this one," he commented, clicking the remote control to a different channel. "Hope you don't mind."

Heero made a tiny sound, but it was too soft and too quick for Duo to determine what it had meant.

Katharine Hepburn, as Trigger, was trading barbs with Robert Young.

"Hepburn is so miscast in this," he said without turning around. "It's not even funny. Actually, it is. Hysterically so. It's the only thing that makes watching this worthwhile."

Heero said nothing in response. Duo considered his next course of action, then got up from the floor and sat down next to Heero, whose position hadn't changed. His leg brushed against Heero's bent knee.

He gestured to the television with the remote and gave a self-deprecatory grin. "We had only one cable channel when I was growing up," he said.

It was a good movie, not in a cinematic sense, but in that it allowed him to think about things without getting distracted.

Something about _Less Than Zero_ had bothered Heero, and Duo didn't think it was the obvious. Heero was far too complex to have become a hooker just because he needed a fix. He'd been practically livid when Duo had accused him of taking a hit in the bathroom, and there was no way he'd have been able to hide the habit from Duo with the amount of time they'd spent together.

So if it wasn't that, what was it?

Was it the fact that he was prostituting himself? If so, why?

Or was it the film's underlying theme of drug use and addiction?

He didn't like it, but Heero had grown rather fond of Relena Peacecraft in a remarkably short period of time. He'd patiently explained typical Japanese dining protocol to her at the Samurai. He'd smiled at her when they'd been engaged in conversation at the festival.

And he'd met her for lunch for who-knows-what reason earlier in the day. He had a very vague suspicion of Heero's motives, after Wufei's announcement that Peacecraft had called him, but that was neither here nor there.

Wasn't it?

Perhaps someone close to Heero had been involved in drugs in some way. He was making a very large leap, jumping to conclusions with little evidence to back them up, but if he was wrong, he suspected he was not all that far off.

* * *

They went to bed after _Spitfire_ ended, and Duo was stunned beyond words when Heero reached for him. He held Heero in a firm embrace, and then Heero started placing hot, wet kisses all over his neck.

Duo was completely undressed, and Heero was only wearing the bottoms to a set of pajamas provided by the hotel. The pants were quickly shed, and Heero made love to his body with his hands and mouth.

Every touch was urgent, but gentle at the same time. A bit of foreplay preceded the application of the condom, and this time, Heero's legs wrapped around Duo's waist.

This was a deeper, more meaningful joining. It felt as if it were the first time Duo was able to fully experience it. It wasn't rushed. They weren't fucking like rabid weasels. It was a slow, sweet act, a sharing that defied description. Duo felt almost queasy, so powerful were the waves of pleasure that he was experiencing.

Heero's eyes were squeezed shut the whole time, but his hands were busy mapping a trail over every place on Duo's body that he could reach, as if memorizing it.

Duo wanted nothing more than to capture Heero's lips and kiss him senseless, but he had a feeling that if he tried to do that, the magic of their lovemaking would shatter. For the same reason, he suspected neither of them dared saying a word the whole time.

When Heero sighed Duo's name just before he came, the breathy sound pushed Duo over the precipice as well.

This time it was Duo who went to the bathroom for a wet washcloth, coming back to clean the evidence of Heero's passion from their bodies. He tossed the cloth on the nightstand and turned to his side, pulling Heero close and feeling relieved beyond measure that Heero allowed him to.

Several moments passed before Duo decided to take a gamble and ask the question that had been plaguing him earlier.

He didn't know how close he was, but he'd spent a lot of time putting things together in his head, and he had to at least be in the neighborhood if not at the right door. He also knew if he asked a question on this subject, he'd be lucky to get that one answer that Heero sometimes provided. It was only because he thought Heero might be asleep that he had the guts to ask it at all.

"What did your friend overdose on?"

He held his breath for several seconds before realizing he wasn't going to get an answer. He hoped that meant Heero was, in fact, asleep, because he didn't want there to be any awkwardness between them in the morning.

His eyes fluttered shut, and he was so drowsy he almost missed hearing the quiet answer, when it came.

"Lead."

tbc

* * *

pupal - relating to being a pupa, the stage in an insect's life when it undergoes metamorphosis between the larval and imaginal (adult) stages. This is when the insect is in its chrysalis.

danaus plexippus - Monarch butterfly. Its chrysalid stage is nine to fourteen days.

Thoroughbred gerbil racing - I don't know how common it is, but it is a regular Sunday night event at a tavern in Latham, New York. Alas, I've only been there on Saturdays.

Samson and Delilah - ah, another excerpt from the Old Testament. As always, the Reader's Digest version. Samson, a young man raised under a Nazarite vow, was to dedicate his life in service to God. He was never to cut his hair, or eat raisins or grapes, or consume wine, or touch a dead body. Samson was possessed of great strength, and was engaged in several battles with the Philistines, who worshipped a god named Dagon. Eventually peace came to Israel after Samson slew 100 or 1000 Philistines using the jawbone of a donkey.

Then Samson started to neglect his vows, drinking wine, eating grapes, touching the dead body of a lion to obtain the honey in its body, and otherwise failing to dedicate himself to God. He fell in love with a Philistine woman named Delilah. Delilah, however, had been promised a large sum of money if she could find the secret to his strength.

She asked Samson on many occasions to tell her, and he lied to her each time. On the other hand, she discovered he lied because she'd do what he'd told her would rob him of his strength, only to find that he was still able to fend off attacks from the Philistines.

So the big lug is still madly in love with her, or a glutton for punishment, or just plain stupid, because despite her obvious attempts to make him no stronger than any other man, he kept going back to her, and eventually told her that if his hair was shorn, he'd lose his strength.

So gone was the hair, he was blinded...all kinds of fun stuff. There was a moment of redemption on Samson's part later on, but needless to say, Samson was a dumb ass.

On the issue of naming conventions (again)...middle names are not used in all countries, of course, and the only reason I know that they are common in the US is the fact that almost every form you fill out prompts for a middle initial. I even got some strange looks when I stopped using mine and just started telling people I didn't have one. Half the time you can't even get a user ID for the computer with that blasted initial, but I digress.

Some so-called middle names are actually either a paternal or maternal surname. Many Latin American names (please correct me if I'm wrong) are given using the surnames of both parents. In this story, Esperanza's father's surname is Vargas and her mother's (maiden) name is Milagro. The use isn't common everywhere, and I'm not sure if it's still practiced, because the two-part "surname" is rather unwieldy. Some people consider the first surname to be their middle name, BUT...the paternal surname is the one that stands. (Some countries reverse the surname, listing the maternal name first, followed by the paternal name, but I went with the convention used in Colombia...unless my information is incorrect!)

Many Spanish-Americans (not to be confused with other Hispanic Americans) do have middle names, but they aren't used often, just like most people with middle names. There are always exceptions, just look at any number of three-name celebrities like Tommy Lee Jones or Sarah Michelle Gellar.

Personally, I think middle names are great, because how else do you let your recalcitrant child know the difference between when you're merely peeved and when they'd better run for cover? G I haven't needed to worry about that yet personally, but I still cringe at the thought of being called by both names. All three meant you were dead meat.

Esperanza's brothers would also have the surname Vargas Milagro, but if they were addressed with a Mister (or Señor), and the name was abbreviated, they would be referred to as Vargas, not as Milagro.

I remain just as confused now as I was back when I first learned of the name change for married women. If Esperanza's mother followed the "traditional" method of changing her name, she'd keep her paternal surname Milagro, and add "de Vargas" to it, so her new surname would be Milagro de Vargas. Nothing like your very name showing that you belong to someone else, eh?

I know I have really oversimplified things, as is my wont, and perhaps I've made things a bit more confusing, but if anyone cares to shed any light on it for me, I'd be happy to hear it. It won't help anyone who's already read the chapter, but maybe I will stop scratching my head to figure it out.

PHEW! Now, on the other hand, Japanese names are composed of a surname and a given name, no more, no less. Not that I'm aware of, anyway. I have seen Vietnamese names that are hyphenated, and a few that had what I guess could be considered "middle names," but as far as I can tell (as always, not very) it would be very unusual to have more than two names in Japan.

And for all Heero's teasing about being born American, his father _is_ Japanese. Everyone HAS figured that out by now, right? ;-)


	33. Dreamgates

****

The Edulcoration of Duo Maxwell - 33/?

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Warnings: AU, yaoi, coarse language, violence, angst, cliffhangers, red herrings, mention of various vices, random bits of useless knowledge, occasionally explicit sex. Weirdness.

Rating: NC-17

Spoilers: None for GW, and I'm now quite convinced almost nada for Pretty Woman.

Disclaimer: I don't really need to be Captain Obvious here, do I? No ownership, no money being made, yadda yadda. Written for fun, not profit.

Archived at:   
http : // www . atsui . org  
http : // www . gundam-wing-diaries . 150m . com / gw / Mookie / gwmookie . htm

__

Edulcorate (verb) - To free from harshness (as of attitude); to soften

~~~~~~~

****

Chapter 33 - Dreamgates

Heero got up and blinked several times in an effort to clear his vision. He took one last look at Duo before slipping out of bed and heading to the bathroom to remove his contact lenses. Instead of returning to bed after he was done, he walked out the room and onto the balcony. He needed some time to think about all that had happened over the past few days.

It was dark out there. The city was oddly dark as well, the only illumination coming from the moon.

He wasn't able to put his finger on what was wrong with that picture until he saw the figure on the ledge. One leg was drawn up to its chest, and the other dangled, the toes just brushing the balcony floor. A long dark braid spilled over one shoulder.

"It's about time you got here, '_Niisan_."

Heero took a long, deep breath, then closed his eyes. When he opened them, she was still there.

"Sorry, '_Niisan_, but I'm not going anywhere. Not yet."

"Kitty-chan," he breathed, this time afraid if he closed his eyes, she WOULDN'T be there when he opened them.

"Not exactly," she said. "But close enough for government work." She seemed to find that extremely hilarious, and started giggling in a way she hadn't done since she was eight.

"I told you I'd come back to haunt you if you ever pissed me off," she said, and he could just imagine the bit of devilry in her dark eyes. He'd once likened them to a dark walnut wood, like the knick-knack table his mother dusted religiously, but she'd snorted at that. "Full of shit up to here," she'd responded, holding her hand up to her forehead and parallel to the floor. She'd grinned when she said it, knowing how it bothered him when she cursed.

"Your hair," he said. "You never used to wear it like that."

She lifted the braid off her shoulder and examined it. "You're right. What do you know about that?" She dropped it and it fell back in the same exact position it had been in before she'd touched it.

"You're too hard on yourself, '_Niisan_," she said. "It's going to be the death of you some day."

He sucked in a breath, and she shrugged. "I'm not going to pull any punches, '_Niisan_. That's not why I'm here."

She looked out at the stars and he followed her gaze. "You come out here a lot." She wasn't asking. He nodded, and even though she wasn't looking at him, he knew she was aware that he had.

"Remember what I used to tell you, _'Niisan_? 'When we get married'..." she trailed off, but Heero remembered. Four words that had represented far more than they meant in the literal sense. Words that may or may not have actually come true one day.

"Ever suffer a stereotype, _'Niisan_?" she asked without turning around.

He thought about it. He really hadn't, not horribly. Other than the exotic slant to his eyes, he didn't look even remotely Japanese. His name gave him away, but all that meant was everyone thought he was good with math and computers, both of which were true. He supposed that the only derogatory stereotype he could have endured would be regarding the size of his dick. Contemplating that only made him think of Duo's question to him earlier in the week as he'd deleted his junk e-mail, and he wasn't about to bring _that_ up to Esperanza.

"I hate that name, I told you that."

"How are you doing that?" He hadn't spoken out loud.

"I'm a ghost, didn't you know?"

"I don't believe in ghosts."

"That's OK. You don't have to. It's enough that I believe in you."

His legs felt weak. She seemed to sense it and turned to look at him.

"Being Hispanic and coming out of Jackson Heights, people tend to assume you're a thief or murderer or a drug dealer. Like they've seen one too many episodes of NYPD Blue and know nothing about what it's really like there." It took Heero a moment to realize she was back to the topic of stereotypes, so caught off guard by her last statement was he. 

"It's worse when your father has money. No one believes that there can be any _intelligent_ Latinos out there," she spat. "So therefore his money must be dirty. No one says it to your face, but you know when everyone stops talking the moment you enter a room. For the longest time, I didn't even know why. I thought it was me personally that they didn't like."

She'd tried to explain it to him when she'd first noticed it, but that's when he'd been involved in pursuing his career choice, and hadn't given her concerns the attention she'd come to expect from him.

"You didn't trust my friends, _'Niisan_. That hurt. I thought you knew me better than that. By not trusting them, you were saying you no longer trusted me. I felt like you'd decided that they were 'filthy spics,' too, and it hurt a lot more than any amount of disdain directed at me by the kids at Rutger's." Her voice took on a snooty affectation at the last word.

He had known that even on the day he'd left her for the last time, but he hadn't been able to come up with a suitable excuse for his hasty departure. He'd lied to her and said he was attending some sort of special school program, and she'd known he was keeping something from her. She'd taken in the wrong way, of course. On top of that, she hadn't understood why he was so adamant that she not associate with her current group of friends, none of whom he'd yet had the chance to meet and approve of.

"They were good people, _'Niisan_. Not your type, of course, but deep down good people."

That hurt. He opened his mouth to speak, but had nothing to say.

"I know you have a tough time with people, _'Niisan_. You really don't like to let many folks in. And I wasn't fair to you, either. I didn't mean it. I was just hurt that you didn't trust me. I didn't really think that you felt you were above me. Now, though, now I know why you couldn't tell me what was going on. I guess I didn't trust you as much as I thought, either."

"How do you know..."

"_I_ know what _you_ know, '_Niisan_. That's how it works. Think of it as some sort of internal extrasensory perception. A telepathy between the conscious and the subconscious."

"You've gotten rather eloquent since..."

"Since I died? Yup. You can say it. I'm dead as a doornail. If it helps any, '_Niisan_..."

He looked at her expectantly.

"It didn't hurt. One shot, right through the head. Died instantly. You've got to stop making it into more than what it was. There was nothing you could have done, even if you were there."

"I could have stopped it," he insisted.

"How? Throwing your body in front of the bullet? Even if you'd been fast enough..." she stopped at the look of determination on his face. "Fine, sure, whatever. Of course YOU would have been fast enough." She rolled her eyes to show what she thought of that idea. "In which case...then you'd be the one playing Jacob Marley right now, and I'd be Ebenezer Scrooge."

"I can't ever picture you as Scrooge," he smiled at her weakly, but she must have noticed, because she beamed at him.

"Bah, humbug," she snickered. "You weren't completely off base with your suspicions, by the way. They were good people, but they didn't have the savvy that you and I have. They weren't personally involved with the whole drug thing, but they were blind to it going on around them. Judged by the company you keep..."

He'd admitted as much to himself before he'd even left Berkeley Heights, but a fat lot of good it had done him. By the time he came back to apologize to her, she was dead.

She swung her legs around and sat on the ledge, both feet on the ground now, the braid dangling in between.

"Don't try to blame yourself for taking that second job, either. The two extra days you were gone wouldn't have made any difference. You can't save the world, _'Niisan_. Even if the world includes me. You can only do the best you can to make it a better place, but people have to save themselves." She started tapping her left heel against the ledge she was sitting on. "It was a drug deal gone wrong, and it just happened to take place where I was getting gas for that shitbox of mine. It could have happened anywhere. Instead of a bullet through the brain - don't look at me like that, it's what happened - I could have gotten into a car accident leaving the place, flown through the windshield - yes, I know I should have worn my seatbelt more often - and died bleeding on the pavement, alone and suffering until I took my last breath. 

"Nice visual imagery, by the way, those dreams of yours. You should have gone to Hollywood to direct horror movies." She looked around and laughed. "Well, I mean, I guess you ARE in Hollywood, after all, but I would never have expected to find you..."

"I miss you, Kitty," he interrupted, not wanting to hear her say it.

"I know you do." She closed one eye, looking at him out the other speculatively. "You remember Euripides, right?"

His look of scorn told her what he thought of that question, and she stuck her tongue out at him like she did so often when he'd say something that particularly annoyed her.

"'Circumstances rule men and not men rule circumstances,'" she quoted blithely.

"_Bakakusai_. No man is incapable of shaping things to suit himself if he has the self integrity and determination to do so."

"Hmmm," she replied thoughtfully. "And yet...things are happening that seem beyond your control." She reached a hand out as if she could touch him from this distance, holding it aloft for a moment before letting it drift into her lap. "You don't really want this, do you, _'Niisan_?"

By 'this,' he knew she meant the track his life had taken.

"No."

"Good answer. You've been rather...'wicked and vulgar,' wouldn't you say, _Hiro_?"

He caught the pun immediately and winced.

"It was an accident," he said defensively. At the look of amusement, he added, with a hint of desperation, "and temporary. It was never my intent to do this forever."

"Self integrity and determination," she mused.

"Sometimes you have to work with what is handed to you," he offered by way of explanation. She shook her head.

"So I see you've tossed my affections aside for another." She placed a hand to her forehead dramatically. "Rubbing elbows with all sorts of people, aren't we?"

"Relena is just a friend."

She looked at him with extreme disappointment, like he'd completely missed her point.

"_'Niisan, 'niisan, 'niisan_," she scolded. "What am I to do with you?"

He looked at her and she made a circle with her thumb and forefinger, then placed it over her nose.

He frowned. Why did that gesture look so familiar?

"It'll come to you eventually," she teased, then sighed deeply. "You really need to purge yourself of this woe-is-me crap, _'Niisan_. It's unbecoming. I want to see the sarcastic, smug bastard that learned Spanish just for me. The badass who didn't take any shit from anyone. The friend who gave me piggyback rides when my brothers were too busy, and the one who chose a career just because he thought it would protect me from the big baddies."

"I didn't...that is..."

She was grinning from ear to ear.

"What was that, _'Niisan_?"

"I didn't...I wanted..."

"Cat got your tongue? And what a naughty tongue it is, _'Niisan_." She laughed at his obvious discomfiture. "So what you're telling me is...Heero Yuy did something for _himself_? Chose a career _he_ wanted? Put himself first, for once in his life? There's hope for you yet."

"I got to choose my colleges, too," he protested. "And after graduation...I wanted to...make a difference. Not to a nameless, faceless corporation, working in a law firm." Not living in Osaka, thousands of miles from you, Kitty.

"Funny thing about that law firm, huh? Would you be surprised if I said I was the one who arranged for Hitomi-san to be here in Beverly Hills this week?"

He looked skeptical, but startled as well. "Did you?" 

She laughed. "No, sorry to say. It would have been cool, to manipulate the fates that way, though."

"I don't believe in fate."

"So it was just coincidence that _'Jiisan_'s friend and business associate was there, at the right time and the right place."

"I don't believe in coincidences, either." The words were out of his mouth before he realized he'd just contradicted himself.

"That's right. In your line of work, there's no such thing as a coincidence."

She slid off the ledge and stood, arching her back and stretching. "So, '_Niisan_. You don't believe in destiny. You don't believe in coincidences. Seems to me you want it both ways."

Duo's words from earlier that day echoed back at him.

"Yesterday," she said.

When he looked at her, her blue eyes were shining brightly. "It was yesterday. Not today. Past midnight, ya know."

He frowned. Something wasn't right with this picture.

"Ever hear about the red threads of destiny?"

"Of course."

She laughed again. "Yeah, that is pretty obvious. If you didn't know about them, we wouldn't be having this conversation right now. So you know that-"

"Two people destined to be together are bound by a red thread. Yes, I've heard it."

She shook her head. "Not only that. When a child is born, invisible red threads reach out from the child's spirit and connect to _all_ the important people who will enter that child's life, not just his or her soul mate. As the child grows, the threads shorten, bringing closes those people who are destined to be together." 

She held out her hands as if showing off a grand prize in a game show. A series of red threads became visible, all of them streaming out of Heero's chest. One led behind him. Some led out beyond the edges of the balcony, somewhere in the night. Several others seemed to just disappear into the mist. When the hell had the balcony become filled with mist?

She was laughing again. "Told ya, it's Hollywood, '_Niisan_. Those threads that seem to vanish into thin air connect you to people whose fates you haven't yet realized tie into yours."

She waved her hand dismissively. "And don't tell me, I know. You don't believe in fate."

"I should have been there."

"Oh, for the love of...not this again. Get over yourself, '_Niisan_! I thought we just covered this. You're doing nothing more than wasting the little time we have here. Listen, and listen good, because I don't want to have to come back and smack you around. You were right where you should have been. If you want to look at it another way, maybe someone else was prevented from suffering because you were where you were at the time instead of holding my hand while I crossed the street. You know I'm right, too, but you refuse to accept it, because if you do, you have to admit that there was nothing you could have done. I forgave you, 'Ro, not that you needed me to. Now forgive yourself. And if you MUST be sorry, _madre de Dios_, at least be sorry for something you have control over."

He sighed. He hated when she was right.

"I thought you didn't speak Spanish," he said, for lack of a more intelligent response.

"I've seen Zorro," she quipped, then relented. "And like I told you, where we are right now, I know what you know." 

Her eyes became sad. "_'Niisan_, was it really that terrible?" She was referring to the night Quatre had found him in the alley. He wasn't going to get off that easily, it seemed.

"I wasn't really going to use it."

"I gotta tell ya, you scared the piss outta Quatre."

"You've never met Quatre."

"No, but you did, and that's all that's needed for this conversation to take place."

His brows wrinkled in confusion, causing her to laugh at him again. "You have this all figured out, _'Niisan_. You just refuse to accept it. Hey, where did you ever learn how to say 'brat' in Spanish anyway?"

Even dead, she had a knack for changing the subject without warning.

"You obviously didn't listen to a thing your brothers said to you, did you?"

"I KNEW you hadn't learned that in Japan!" she crowed. "It didn't seem like something you'd have picked up over there. You should be damn pleased with yourself, then. I remembered when YOU said it, even though my brothers probably used it a hundred times or more."

He couldn't help smiling at her. This had to be the most bizarre conversation he'd ever had in his life.

"Know who you are an awful lot like?"

"Who?"

"Wufei Chang."

He didn't bother bringing up the fact that she hadn't met him either.

"How so?"

"Nuh-uh," she shook her head. "I don't have to tell you. You already know."

He ran a hand through his hair.

"I ever tell you how cute you are when you do that? It's like you have nothing better to do with your hands, and it doesn't matter anyway, because your hair, '_Niisan_, is perpetually messy."

"Thanks," he said dryly, earning himself yet another laugh.

"What do you think of Chang-sama?"

He scowled at the form of address she used, and she grinned. "Gotcha," she winked. "So answer the question."

"He's got a mean right hook."

She ran a hand through her bangs. "Look, now you've gotten me doing it." Her eyes met his again. "Ya know, that was a perfect opportunity for 'kiss-booboo-make-it-better' and you couldn't even get that right."

He shook his head, and she reached out and smacked him on the arm.

"Ow!"

"Didn't think I could actually touch you, did ya?" she smirked. "I can do whatever I want. Well, whatever YOU want, I guess."

He closed his eyes. His head was starting to hurt.

"Hey, '_Niisan_," she said.

She repeated the thumb-and-forefinger gesture and winked again.

"Give you a hint. Remember the night you and Quatre went to Rage?"

Rage was a gay nightclub in West Hollywood that Quatre had convinced him to go to on the assumption that he'd manage to get a feel for the different 'types' of gays there were. Average guys who just happened to like fucking other guys. Homosexuals who treated their sexual orientation as a cultural lifestyle, as if it defined who they were on every level. Ambiguous and ambivalent gays. And those firmly entrenched in the closet, acting like they'd been dragged there against their will, kicking and screaming the entire way.

That night he'd still been reeling from that kiss Quatre gave him. He'd never been kissed by a man before, and he knew that Quatre was trying to get him to loosen up, despite his ostensible purpose for bringing Heero there in the first place. The blond did have a point, though, because if Heero were serious about servicing the male clientele, he needed to be able to read them, to get a preliminary feel for their personalities. Quatre also pointed out that he could always refuse to take money from a john, should he decide that things might get ugly. Little did Quatre know that at that point in time, Heero felt he needed - no, _deserved_ - that ugliness.

That's when he started to feel a bit protective of the other man. Quatre was so openly trying to...Heero supposed 'court' was a good word to use...to _court_ him, that it would have been painful if Heero hadn't admitted to a certain amount of attraction for him in return.

It was the real reason he'd consented to having sex with him. He'd realized that he was attracted to another man, which came as a bit of a shock. And he really had wanted to enjoy his introduction to male-male sex. Having his first time with someone he found sexually attractive, as well as someone he thought he might be able to trust, was suddenly very important to him.

It wasn't until after he and Quatre had sex that Heero had remembered that he had a penance to serve, and he'd shunned any further contact, for the most part. He preferred spending time with Quatre when Trowa was in attendance as well, which was damn near impossible since they lived together.

Quatre had backed off, refraining from any overtures, and had suddenly discovered a new love, one of gambling. If he wasn't working, his poker games kept him away from the apartment when Heero was there, but he still came home every night.

They'd returned to Rage a few times after that, Heero treating it like a sexual seminar, even going so far as to get into discussions with the transvestites on drag revue nights. He didn't mind Rage, because it was an 18-and-over club, and therefore no one had ever asked him to present identification. Quatre might have gotten carded if not for the fact that he was with Heero.

"You see, '_Niisan_? Everyone has a skeleton or two. You don't have a monopoly on this bullshit, warped need for atonement. You can spend your whole life punishing yourself, '_Niisan_, but it will never bring me back."

He'd expected her words to send a spike of pain through his chest, but all he could do was nod. How could he argue with that?

"Follow your emotions anywhere," she sang, "is it really magic in the air?"

He looked at her. It sounded nothing like her normal speaking voice. In fact, she sounded like an entire band, complete with music. A club mixed version of some vaguely familiar song was coming out of her mouth, as if she'd just swallowed a stereo.

"It's just an illusion..." she continued, delighting in his puzzled expression.

"How are you doing that?" he asked.

"You heard that song at Rage. I don't _always_ fly off on a tangent, you know. This is just your subconscious, bringing it back at an incredibly perfect moment in our little discussion. I can't explain everything that happens here, but seeing as you're the one who brought it up, think about it. Just because it's a clubby kind of song, doesn't mean the lyrics can't have meaning. In this case, you have to ignore the melody and focus on the words. Don't let the music distract you. _Searching for a destiny that's mine_..." she trilled, laughing again at the perplexed look on his face.

"You should believe in destiny," she said, pointing to the red threads that were suddenly visible again. "I think you were destined to meet Quatre. No," she amended. "YOU think that. If you didn't, I wouldn't have said it."

He wanted to sit down, but settled for leaning against the doorframe instead.

"You do care for him, '_Niisan_. The same way you care for that blond chick. But not the way you-"

"Relena," he interjected.

"I know what her name is," she said, frowning at his interruption. "Remember? If you know it, I know it."

He ran a hand through his hair and winced as she laughed at him again.

"Aaaah, '_Niisan_," she said. "You look so damn fuckable when you do that." Her voice had dropped several octaves as she said that last part.

His jaw dropped open, but she wasn't looking at him, instead playing with the end of the braid, running the end of it over her lips almost seductively before dropping it. It hit her leg and bounced once before curling about her calf like a serpent. She crossed her arms and leaned back against the ledge, looking cold and angry for a split second before the look of amusement was back.

"For someone who hates to let anyone touch him, and I mean that in the spiritual sense as much as the physical sense, you seem to care for a great number of people. It's not a crime, you know. The song is right. Except...is it really an illusion? For that matter...am I?"

Her body became translucent, and for a heart-lurching moment he feared she would vanish.

"Quatre loves you," she said. When Heero's eyes widened, she chuckled. "Or he thinks he does. Not sure on that yet."

Her hair shimmered, turning a pale gold shade before settling back into its dark, near black, color.

"He can't."

"Why is that so hard to believe, '_Niisan_? You're lovable, deep down, you know. Quatre is also a little bit scared of you. He seeks escape in his poker games, in a sense, but also knows that you'll nail his hide to the wall if he gets in too deep. You're damned attractive. You represent all the strength he can't see in himself, not to mention he craves attention."

"But Trowa..."

She nodded eagerly. "Uh huh. I'm glad you noticed, too. Of course, it goes without saying that if you hadn't, I wouldn't either..."

They were both silent for a moment. She picked up the end of the braid and started playing with it again.

"Did you know that for years, I didn't know you had a last name?" She twirled the length of hair and looked at him. "I mean, I knew you did, it just...it never felt like I was missing anything. You were always just my _'Niisan_. Know how I found out what it was?"

He shook his head.

"That day we got a package delivered to us because no one was home at your place."

He remembered that day. Kitty had run over with the package, taunting him with it, because it had been addressed to him. Had pretended she wasn't going to surrender the precious package. She'd been quite disappointed to find the parcel contained nothing more than a book his grandfather had sent him from Japan.

It had never occurred to him that, while he'd known all four of her names from the beginning, she'd only known him by one.

"Time is running short," she sighed. "I don't have time for this reminiscing crap, which means you don't, either."

When he looked ready to protest, she shook her head. "You can always practice the whole SILD thing later, complete with reality tests. There's something else you heard but forgot. The subconscious is a lot of fun to play with, you know. You might not even remember all this."

"No..."

She grinned at him. "You want to see me again, work on that technique, 'Ro. Now let's get down to brass tacks. I've only got a little time left. I'll even give you one of those reality tests right now."

She walked over to him and placed her barely visible hands on his shoulder, those deep blue eyes the only seemingly solid part of her body. She moved closer and cupped his cheek with one hand.

"I've always wanted to do this," she said, and kissed him.

His eyes slid closed, and he accepted the kiss. He hadn't expected to actually feel the contact, but she was warm and alive against him. The kiss wasn't very deep, in that it didn't involve the use of any tongue, but it was full of emotion. He moved his lips against hers and wrapped his arms around her.

She pulled back slightly, her eyes an ambiguous shade of blue-hazel.

"Wow," she said. He dropped his arms, and she stepped back.

"This means we are married now, _'Niisan_. You know what that means, right?"

He shook his head.

"You will." She held up a hand and he saw the red thread that connected the two of them, from heart to heart. She strummed it gently. "You are so very easy to love, _'Niisan_."

"_Watashi_," he sighed, then felt a grin tug at the corners of his lips. "_ORE no ichiru_."

She laughed delightedly. "That's more your style," she said. "_Watashi_, geeeez. Don't pretend you are the dashing young gentleman with me, I know you too well for that." She stopped toying with the threads.

"I may be dead, 'Ro, but I live on as long as I have people to remember me." She touched a finger to his cheek. "I have to get going, but I'll be watching. You never know when I might stop by for an unexpected visit, so get your shit together."

"I will...just give me a few more days, but I will..."

"I know you will. I trust you, remember?"

"Kitty..."

Suddenly the braid vanished, and her bangs fell over her forehead dramatically. 

"Snap out of it, Yuy," she barked. "You've basked in self indulgence long enough! We don't have time for this shit! So get your head out of your ass and do what needs to be done!" Her commanding tone of voice made him unconsciously straighten his posture and reach for his hip.

She laughed at him, and this time she looked exactly as she had the day they'd parted on such bad terms.

"One last word of advice, before I fly off into the wild blue yonder," she said. She walked past him, and paused at the doorway leading to the suite.

"_La traición no puede existir a menos que viva la confianza allí primero_. Keep that in mind. It might help you understand some things later on."

She took two more steps into the suite, and disappeared.

~~~~~

Duo felt Heero's body stirring next to him, and he cracked his eyes open. It was dark in the bedroom, but he didn't think much time had passed since he and Heero had fallen asleep.

Heero was still pressed against him, and he mumbled something.

It sounded like he was counting cats in his sleep. Most people used sheep, but whatever.

He closed his eyes and pulled Heero more firmly into his embrace, then dozed off again.

tbc

~~~~~

For some reason, I can just see Bugs Bunny, head and shoulders out of his rabbit hole, chewing the end of his carrot and looking at the viewer, saying, "Odd, ain't it?" while some secondary character runs around with a sign displaying a picture of a bolt and a baseball.

OK, these notes are extensive and somewhat irreverent. You've been warned.

__

Dreamgates is the title of a book authored by Robert Moss. To give you an idea of the book's contents, the cover touts "An Explorer's Guide to the World of Soul, Imagination, and Life Beyond Death." Excerpt from the back cover: "_Dreamgates_ teaches unique ways to use dreams as the portals to the worlds beyond physical reality...You can encounter departed loved ones and wise otherworldly beings..."

SILD - Sexual Induced Lucid Dream. Reality tests are ways to determine whether or not you are actually dreaming, like looking at a clock, then away, then looking at it again to see if it has changed. They are to be done when you think about sex or your lover while dreaming. There are supplements and drugs that can be taken to help initiate or enhance the various types of lucid dreaming, the concept of which I may or may not have played fast and loose with. It depends on what _you_ think really happened in this chapter as well as how literally you choose to interpret SILD. (Calls forth the mists to shroud self in a très cliché cloak of mystery, complete with cheesy B-movie soundtrack.)

Random excerpt from a blurb on SILD, that is taken WAY out of context: "...Chocolate contains phenylalanine in large quantities, that are converted into tyrosine that is again metabolized into the love hormone dopamine. So chocolate may also give more dreams with sexual content..."

A few bits of demographic info for ya, based on the 2000 census. Jackson Heights has a median income of $35,310 and a "racial balance" of 63% white, 42% Hispanic, 17% Asian and 4% Black (yes, they total over 100% because some families are counted in more than one group). In comparison, Berkeley Heights has a median income of $107,716 and a racial balance of 90% white, 4% Hispanic, 8% Asian, and 1% Black. Of course there are other races that I've neglected to include, but I did say I was only providing a "few bits" of information on demographics here.

Euripides - Greek playwright, born circa 480 B.C. He wrote _The Bacchae_, which tells the story of Pentheus, King of Thebes, who is determined to put an end to the worship of Dionysus (Bacchus in Roman mythology). There were a few stories about Dionysus moving into a city, being resisted, and then wreaking havoc in retribution, but Euripides' _The Bacchae_ is one of the most well known. It's said that Dionysus is at his most destructive, and the worship of him the most dangerous, in this play. 

And what is Dionysus the god of? Aaaah. Dionysus is the god of fertility and wine, but also the patron god of the arts. He has a dual nature. On one hand, he brings ecstasy and and joy. On the other, brutal, unthinking rage.

The adjective bacchanalian comes from Bacchus, and means "of, relating to, or suggesting the ancient Roman religious rites marked by orgiastic revelry and drunkenness that were held in honor of Bacchus, the god of wine" (my thanks to Merriam Webster once again).

Oh, hell. Might as well go for broke and include the definition of orgiastic, too. It means either "tending to produce wild emotion orgiastic music" or "of or having the character or quality of an orgy."

Don't you feel smarter already? I know I do!

__

Bakakusai - absurd, ridiculous

In Colombia, making a circle with the thumb and index finger (like the gesture for "OK") and placing it over one's nose means "homosexual." Keep that in mind next time you're in Bogota.

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'Jiisan (or _ojiisan_) - grandfather

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Ore no ichiru - my ray (or sliver) of hope. _Watashi_ is a more polite form of "me" or "I" than _ore, _which is only used by men and may or may not be considered impolite, depending on the audience.

Don't own Rage, situated on Santa Monica Boulevard, Scrooge, Marley, or the rest of Dickens' _A_ _Christmas Carol_, or the song _Just an Illusion_ by Imagination. Let's face it, I am barely in possession of my sanity.


	34. Dawning

The Edulcoration of Duo Maxwell - 34/?

Warnings: AU, yaoi, coarse language, violence, angst, cliffhangers, red herrings, mention of various vices, random bits of useless knowledge, nonexplicit male/male sex.

Spoilers: None for GW, and I'm now quite convinced almost nada for Pretty Woman.

Disclaimer: I don't really need to be Captain Obvious here, do I? No ownership, no money being made, yadda yadda. Written for fun, not profit.

Edulcorate (verb) - To free from harshness (as of attitude); to soften

* * *

Chapter 34 - Dawning

Heero could barely open his eyes. The contacts felt like they'd permanently bonded to his corneas. Too bad they didn't make colored contacts designed for extended wear.

He'd have sworn he removed them sometime during the night, but proof that he had not was making it difficult to keep his eyes open.

Duo was spooned behind him, his erection digging into Heero's back. His breathing was soft and even. Heero found the feeling of familiarity both welcome and unnerving.

He placed his left hand over Duo's, where it was resting on his stomach, and squeezed it gently before lifting Duo's arm and wriggling forward to get free.

He stumbled to the bathroom and filled one of the tumblers with water. His eyes were killing him, and he struggled to keep them open long enough to peel the contacts out of first one eye, then the other.

The lenses went into the glass of water and he rinsed his face, letting the water flush his eyes a bit, too, before rummaging around for the lens cleaning supplies and eye lubricant he'd obtained from Howard earlier in the week.

Several minutes later, the contacts were secure in their plastic case and his eyes were starting to feel less like he'd just spent the last few hours staring unblinkingly into an exhaust vent.

He snagged Duo's robe on the way out of the bedroom and headed for the balcony, feeling the need to reassure himself that the city was still there for some inexplicable reason. He seated himself on one of the deck chairs and leaned back, putting his bare feet up on the round glass table situated between the chairs and crossing them at the ankles. The robe fell partly open, but he barely noticed.

Sex with Duo the night before had been admittedly different. It had all started with that stupid movie. It seemed like his entire life was caught up in drugs, in some form or another. Even in his present situation, he couldn't escape the taint of controlled substances.

His arrangement with Duo technically ended on the morrow, but he was sure that he could talk his way out of it if he really wanted. The only variable in that plan was Duo's reaction. If it were Duo's idea, on the other hand...

He'd made his decision the day before that he was done after this. Did that mean he actually had to finish this ridiculous farce of a service contract?

He rubbed a hand over his face and noted the smoothness beneath his palm. He, for one, had never really grown much facial hair, a trait that gave him a boyish appearance at times and had come in handy in several situations in the past. On the other hand, he suspected Duo probably shaved every morning. It would be easy enough to find evidence of that activity, if he really wanted to verify that assumption, but it was one of those insignificant details that he felt he just...knew.

So what now, Yuy?

He knew the answer to that, for the most part. He just had to decide what he was going to do about the verbal agreement he'd entered into with Duo.

If only things had been different...

"Circumstances rule men and not men rule circumstances," he muttered, then frowned. He hadn't heard that particular line in ages. His mind was obviously working overtime.

Regardless, he would not be ruled by the circumstances he'd mired himself in. For that matter, he'd not be ruled by those thrust upon him, either.

Which brought his thoughts right back to Duo.

In the past twenty-four hours, he'd felt like he'd gone through the proverbial wringer. He'd acted on a hunch, shared most of his findings with Relena Peacecraft, and practically come to blows with her brother, only to later end up involved in a similar situation with Duo.

Which, in turn, had led to a completely different kind of physical confrontation.

He was still struggling with his constantly evolving opinion of Duo, and was forced to admit that a good healthy dose of lust kept coloring things, try as he might to ignore it. He'd realized his physical attraction toward Duo had started Sunday night, when Duo had been so eager to attempt fellatio for the first time.

The power struggle they had been engaged in from the beginning added an almost shameful element to their pseudo-relationship; one that Heero found addictive. As much as he delighted in changing that smug confident look on Duo's face to one of needy confusion, he also found Duo's attempts to seduce _him_ turned him on in ways that he found surprising - and more than a little satisfying.

Sex with his johns was just work, and not something to be enjoyed. Sex with Quatre, while it had been gratifying physically, lacked that element of...danger, he supposed. His roommate was no pushover himself, but from the moment Quatre had kissed him, he'd known that he'd never have to worry about Quatre trying to hurt him, physically or emotionally. Heero had never been one to take the easy road, although there were times when he truly regretted his inability to reciprocate Quatre's feelings. Perhaps he might have been able to, if they'd met under different circumstances.

Again, everything revolved around circumstances!

Quatre's last parting words of advice to him had been 'don't kiss on the mouth,' and although Heero really hadn't planned on it, no more than he'd planned on shaking hands with his clients, that imparted bit of wisdom meant so many things.

Quatre wasn't just telling him it was too intimate, something that ran the risk of getting him involved personally, he was also telling Heero that it was a very precious thing, something to be shared when it meant something. Heero doubted very much that he'd ever run the risk of falling for a client, but since he didn't have the slightest desire to kiss anyone, it was a moot point.

The other thing Quatre had been telling him was that he'd broken his own rule and was paying for it dearly.

* * *

Duo rolled over and pulled the blanket over his head. The air-conditioning unit must have kicked on during the night, because all the warmth seemed to be sucked out of the bed.

He reached one hand out of the cocoon of bedding and hit the nightstand. With a soft curse, he rolled the other way and repeated the gesture, only to run his palm over the rapidly cooling spot on the sheets.

Heero was gone.

He sat up abruptly and blinked several times. It seemed that the sun had been up for a while. Usually he closed the curtains before going to bed, but he couldn't remember following that practice regularly since he'd gotten to LA.

He ran a tongue around his mouth, wincing at its cottony texture and admitting he probably had a severe case of morning breath.

Not that it mattered to anyone but himself.

But it did matter to him, and he didn't have to suffer from it out of spite, so he got up and went to the bathroom, taking the time to wash his hands and face as well as brushing his teeth before setting out to find Heero. He was pretty sure he'd know where to find him.

* * *

How had he allowed things to become such a mess with Quatre? He'd been so caught up in trying to atone for something he had no control over, he'd allowed himself to get close to another person, and had cruelly withdrawn just as quickly.

Quatre always seemed so optimistic, in blatant defiance of the many risks involved in prostitution. It was obvious his life hadn't always been one of living off the street. Heero sometimes detected a little crease of concern between his eyebrows when Quatre emerged from the restroom a respectable length of time after his client did, and it had taken him a while to figure that out, too, much to his later chagrin.

He hadn't really given much thought to Quatre's reasons for doing what he was doing, before this week. Unless he counted the day he'd asked, in a roundabout way, how Quatre managed to cope.

Heero didn't usually beat around the bush, but he'd been so wrapped up in the cloak of misery, he'd been little more than a lost little boy. And Quatre had seen that, and had taken him in, and given him something concrete.

Instead of taking what Quatre offered so freely, he'd slammed the door on his emotions, stubbornly clinging to his lone wolf facade, and left Quatre confused and hurting.

He'd always assumed that Quatre had his own little support group...his sister, who called faithfully, even when Quatre urged Trowa to put her off until another time. Trowa, who always gave the impression that he was listening, even if he was busy doing something else at the same time. Otto, and Nate, and, what-was-his-name, Saul, and the other rotating group of poker junkies that met practically every night to donate their hard earned money to one of their number.

He even had a few regular clients that seemed genuinely fond of Quatre, and Heero knew that Quatre, in turn, had a soft spot for them, as evidenced by that concerned expression he sometimes wore after a job. Perhaps that was why Quatre preferred to avoid repeat customers. Usually he'd tease the ones he'd just finished with by laughing and throwing out some quip along the lines of 'tell your friends,' and damned if they didn't.

Duo...what support structure did Duo have?

Meiran was definitely protective of Duo, in her own subtle way. And perhaps Wufei as well, although Heero doubted Chang realized it himself. And at one time, there had been a girlfriend, Hilde, Duo had said her name was, although from the way Duo had spoken of her, he felt that relationship had been less solid than the one Duo had with Meiran.

And who do YOU have, Yuy?

He'd had Kitty. At one time, he had his parents, and to be honest, should he really need anything, he probably still did. But not for this.

There hadn't been anyone else since Kitty.

Oh, really, Yuy?

OK, he admitted grudgingly. There had also been-

The sound of Duo clearing his throat made him sit up and slam his feet on the ground. Heero felt about as close to a blushing schoolgirl as one could get, completely embarrassed, as if Duo had some way of knowing Heero had been thinking about him.

Duo sat down on the other deck chair and placed two bottles of Evian on the table. Heero took one gratefully, carefully avoiding watching Duo as he sipped his own. He wondered if Duo had deliberately eschewed any sort of covering on his body as some sort of payback for all the mornings Heero had wandered about the suite stark naked.

Duo, on the other hand, didn't avert his gaze. He remembered how Heero had looked the day before, covered with sweat, taking a long swig of water after his workout. As he watched Heero's head tilted back this time, his eyes closed almost blissfully as he drank, Duo thought perhaps he should have put something on before coming out to the balcony.

Or maybe not, he amended, as soon as he realized Heero's attention was riveted on his dick, currently at half-mast after imagining Heero gulping down something besides spring water.

Heero took another long swig from the bottle, but didn't swallow. Before Duo could process that information, Heero's head was bent over his lap, and the water was released, a rush of both warmth and cool, and then there was the heat of Heero's mouth.

He hadn't expected this, but he wasn't complaining. God strike him dead if he so much as protested what Heero was doing. Duo tried to put his water on the table, but his unsteady hands knocked it over. The bottle's contents spilled over Heero's head, and once the bottle emptied enough that the stream ended, Heero tossed his head back. Droplets of water flew from his hair, and then Heero went right back to work.

Just before Duo was ready to climax, Heero pulled away, and Duo's mouth opened to object before he realized Heero was reaching into the pocket of the robe. A condom was quickly rolled on, and then Heero resumed his previous activity. Despite a small flash of disappointment, it didn't take long for Duo to fill the latex sleeve.

Heero slid the condom off and stood up. He held his other hand out to Duo, who accepted it. Heero pulled him to his feet and they locked eyes for a moment. Heero dropped his hand and walked past him, towards the bathroom.

Duo watched him go.

He had one more day.

* * *

Duo ordered breakfast for the two of them while Heero showered, and then picked up his cell phone and called Wufei.

Only to get Wufei's voice mail.

He blinked in disbelief at his cell phone, as if it had somehow tricked him.

Wufei wasn't answering his cell phone?

He considered calling the apartment, and got as far as dialing the number before hitting the send button, when he remembered Meiran's face the night of the art gallery.

He'd glanced up at her once while he and Wufei were speaking with the Landrys. The wife had practically started drooling the minute Duo paid her any attention. His proven tactics were working like a charm. Then she'd run her fingers along the edge of his sleeve when her husband was disagreeing with Wufei over something, and he'd felt his stomach revolt at the contact.

Had he come on too strong? Usually he could do it with smiles and almost-touches, but never went so far as to actually lay his hand or any other part of his body on them. It was all in the promise of things to come, not in the actual participation of illicit affairs.

In need of a momentary distraction, his eyes had sought out the familiarity that Meiran and Heero represented, to find Meiran sipping champagne in that way of hers that barely counted as drinking. He'd never really seen her imbibe. His eyes had then flicked toward Heero, whose attention was on Meiran at that moment. Heero didn't bother carrying a champagne flute as a prop. Why would he need to?

Meiran's gaze was suddenly riveted on Wufei, and even from that distance, he could see the affection she had for her husband.

Had Hilde ever looked at him like that? He honestly couldn't say he remembered.

Then the unwanted caress of long manicured fingernails returned, this time on his lapel, and he forced his attention back to Mrs. Landry before she'd realized he had absolutely no interest in what she was saying, and even less than that in bedding her.

He'd told Heero that first day that they had one thing in common, screwing people for money.

For a brief moment, as Rita Landry touched him for the third time, he'd thought perhaps they had more in common than that.

* * *

Quatre rubbed his eyes as the sun streamed through the flimsy kitchen curtains. He had fallen asleep in the chair and he had an awful crick in his neck from the awkward position he'd taken. He'd stared at the damn bottle of bourbon for the better part of the night, but hadn't opened it.

He ran a hand over the stubble on his jaw. He thought perhaps he'd shave in the shower this morning to save time.

Yeah, Quatre, and where exactly do you need to be that you can't take the time to shave in front of a mirror?

He wanted to go to the bar, and yet he was afraid to. He might have asked Heero for his opinion, without looking like he was fishing for information, but that option wasn't available to him at the moment.

When the hell had Heero said he was coming back home, anyway?

He leaned forward until his forehead touched the tabletop. He was tempted to bang his head a few times, and couldn't resist chuckling at the notion. That's one way to knock sense into your head, that voice taunted him.

He got up. Despite his lethargy, he needed to stretch, and a shower might help alleviate the cramping in his neck and shoulders.

Heero could have massaged away the tension. If he were there.

It's your own fault, Quatre. You're the one who...

Who tried to get him to love you. Who knowingly answered one question when you knew he meant another. Who pushed him in the direction of the Ferrari, knowing that it was going to irrevocably change things somehow.

Who lately had developed a knack for pissing off Trowa by simply breathing.

He removed his clothes and left them in a rumpled pile by the bathroom door. He'd pick them up later, and well before Heero came back. If he was coming back. Quatre had always felt this odd connection to Heero, but after they'd made love, it had intensified. The only other person he was that close to was Iria. He could tell whenever one of them was calling, and with Heero, he seemed in tune with the other man's moods more often than not.

Quatre was rather adept at reading people. He'd picked it up at an early age from his father, who was able to use body language and mannerisms to tell when someone was lying, or nervous. It was one of the reasons he was so good at poker. Not many people could out-bluff him.

Trowa's words came back to him. 'You've got to stop throwing the games and letting Otto win.'

That bothered him. He could rationalize his empathy towards Heero, but Otto, who was really little more than an acquaintance? The first time he'd found himself unwittingly throwing a decent hand, he'd sworn not to drink and gamble at the same time.

Then it happened again.

He didn't really mind losing to Otto, because the man was genuinely a caring person, and he doted on his family. He seemed to put on a false face of good cheer, but Quatre had quickly realized that it was no more than a mask.

It wasn't fair. Quatre just couldn't let Otto gamble away what little resources he had. Eventually it became habit for Quatre to get sloppy whenever Otto's tells indicated he had a potentially winning hand.

He turned on the shower and cursed the lack of sufficient water pressure, but tilted his head anyway so the feeble spray could hit the spot on his neck that needed attention. A weak little warm water massage was better than nothing.

Trowa was starting to make him feel guilty for avoiding Iria, too. He knew he was being unfair to his sister, but she was getting overly anxious about something, and he couldn't face going back home just yet.

He didn't want to leave Heero.

Selfish, Quatre. That should have been your middle name. When are you going to stop thinking about yourself?

When I get what I want. When, just once, I get my little slice of bliss pie out of life.

He was tempted to tell the little voice in his head to fuck off when it repeated its earlier chastisement.

Hell, he was starting to wish someone on the fourth floor would flush their toilet, just so he'd have that sudden rush of scalding hot water, like he did yesterday.

He ignored the fact that the water hadn't been hot, just like he was planning on ignoring that annoying voice for the rest of the day.

tbc


	35. Aria

****

The Edulcoration of Duo Maxwell - 35/?

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Warnings: AU, yaoi, coarse language, violence, angst, cliffhangers, red herrings, mention of various vices, random bits of useless knowledge, occasionally explicit sex.

Spoilers: None for GW, and I'm now quite convinced almost nada for Pretty Woman.

Disclaimer: I don't really need to be Captain Obvious here, do I? No ownership, no money being made, yadda yadda. Written for fun, not profit.

Archived at:   
http : // www . atsui . org  
http : // www . gundam-wing-diaries . 150m . com / gw / Mookie / gwmookie . htm

__

Edulcorate (verb) - To free from harshness (as of attitude); to soften

~~~~~~~

****

Chapter 35 - Aria

Heero settled for donning nothing more than a pair of shorts after his shower. He wasn't sure what Duo's plans were for the day and didn't want to bother getting fully dressed this early anyway. There'd be time to decide what he was going to wear after they'd eaten.

He was more than surprised to discover that Duo must have used one of the other bathrooms to shower, judging from the wet tendrils of hair clinging to his temples. The majority of it was dry, however, but he supposed Duo was not about to risk using anything but his own special brand of conditioner for hair that length. The braid was neater than it had been earlier, suggesting Duo had taken the time to brush and replait it.

It brought back memories of complaints he'd heard not all that long ago about the maintenance required for long tresses. He brought a hand up to his own hair. Since he'd been using Duo's conditioner, it had become less coarse than usual. It stubbornly maintained its tousled appearance, but it wasn't quite so wild now that the hair was more relaxed. He wished he could say the same thing about the rest of him.

He watched Duo uncover their breakfast before it registered that the other man was already dressed in a pair of jeans and an unbuttoned, short-sleeved, mosstone shirt. Where had those come from? He hadn't heard Duo enter the bedroom. His next thought was how he would never have pictured Duo in green, but it looked good on him nonetheless.

The shock of seeing Duo in body-hugging denim, though, was another story. Heero felt the back of his neck grow warm as well as other more interesting parts of his body.

If only they'd met under different circumstances...

Was that such an unlikely event? Would their worlds have intersected, had Quatre not pushed him into approaching the Enzo nearly a week ago?

For that matter, would he have met Quatre, had he not tried to hide himself as far from the scene of Kitty's death as he could get?

It was the second time all week he'd consciously allowed himself to think of her, and the first time he'd openly admitted she was gone. Ironic considering that had been the driving force in his actions for the past several months. He'd been insane to think that she'd have wanted him to do...this...in order to atone for some imagined failure on his part.

Duo turned and noticed a sad smile on Heero's face, and his stomach fluttered. He ignored the unfamiliar feeling and gestured for Heero to help himself, then carried his plate to the loveseat.

No man should be allowed to look that gorgeous in the morning. Hell, for that matter, no man should ever have looks that could be considered even remotely beautiful.

Maybe it wasn't so much that he was gay, as that Heero was beautiful. Women were beautiful, not men, so it was obvious that he was attracted to Heero because Heero was feminine in appearance.

He actually winced at the hysterical laughter _that_ particular thought got from some imp in the recesses of his brain, and he thanked his lucky stars that Heero's attention was on the food at the moment and not on him.

~~~~~

Quatre tried to appear nonchalant as he lounged against the exterior of an establishment several doors down from The Bar. He resisted the impulse to whistle.

He looked the other way when Trowa arrived and unlocked the door, but as soon as he entered the building, Quatre's eyes immediately sought out the entrance.

Trowa had left the door ajar.

Quatre took a deep breath before accepting the invitation. He could do this. He just had to act...like nothing had happened. And really, nothing had, right? So Trowa knew he and Heero had been intimate with each other. He'd already known that, even before he'd confronted Quatre about it.

He spared half a thought to the bourbon Trowa had thrust into his hands before telling him to go home, and sighed. Liquid courage, he didn't need right now, because in his brief flirtation with alcohol, he'd found it was also liquid lack-of-good-judgement, and he seemed to possess that in buckets as it was.

He still suspected Trowa knew he was breaking more than one law by giving him the bottle of Bulleit last night, but he wasn't going to bring it up, and he was sure Trowa wouldn't, either.

He opened the unlatched door and walked in, then closed it quietly behind him. Trowa was in the back room, most likely taking an inventory to insure he'd have enough food for the Saturday crowd.

Except for pretzels and peanuts, it was mostly frozen, ready-to-thaw-and-eat fare, but it was sufficient to feed the bar's patrons, none of whom actually came for the cuisine. Without a full time cook on staff, Trowa made due the best he could on busy nights, usually roping Quatre or Heero into heating something up in the tiny kitchen if anyone requested appetizers with their drinks.

Except Heero wasn't going to be here tonight.

He didn't know what to say to Trowa, or if he even should, so he simply went behind the bar and found the box of cleaning supplies he'd sent crashing to the floor the previous day, right where Trowa had obtained them from the last time. He picked it up and carried it to the bathroom.

Maybe someone got really sick in there last night and he'd have to clean it up. That might make him feel better.

The sad part was how true that was.

~~~~~

Duo had seated himself with his back against the left armrest and his left leg was pulled up in front of him. The other leg dangled off the side, and Heero was struck with a sense of déjà vu, although usually he was the one seated there. Duo tended to prefer the armchair, unless he was planning something designed to put Heero off guard.

"It's Saturday," Duo said, extending the leg on the loveseat before picking up the remote. "Ever watch cartoons on Saturday mornings when you were a kid?"

Heero shook his head, and Duo laughed. "Me neither. Told ya we only got one cable channel, and the local network reception was horrible. Seems backwards, doesn't it?"

He turned the TV on, and flipped through the channels. His eyes were on the screen, but his attention was far from it.

"I had originally intended on spending the day looking for information on Romefeller, in light of some news I received yesterday. However, I have a rather good feeling about this one. I think it's time I gave myself a day off. It is the weekend, after all, at least until Wufei calls me to let me know that the iron is hot."

Heero walked toward the armchair with his breakfast, but Duo obligingly swung his leg out of the way, picking up his own meal from the end table to indicate that he wanted Heero to sit next to him.

Some animated program obviously targeting the preteen male audience was on, but Heero couldn't have said what it was about, with Duo sitting that close to him. If anyone had told him a year ago he'd spend his weekend eating haute cuisine for breakfast while watching cartoons with a multi-millionaire as the result of a sex-for-hire proposition, he'd have treated them to a look of utter contempt.

And yet... 

He took a bite of the crêpes suzette Duo had ordered and chewed it thoughtfully.

...it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

~~~~~

Quatre heard the outside door open as he exited the restroom. He nearly dropped the box he was carrying when he saw the uniformed LAPD officer walk into the bar, until he recognized the woman from the previous day.

He hoped it was a social call. She hadn't seemed to like him very much for some reason. The last thing he needed was to be arrested, or to have someone decide to call his father - the former would both disappoint Heero and cause Iria undue amounts of stress, which she clearly didn't need, and the latter was undesirable from his own standpoint. If he thought his life was a mess now...

Trowa's head popped up from behind the bar where he'd headed to as soon as Quatre had disappeared in the bathroom.

"Cathy."

"Is that thing still broken?" she asked, shaking her head. "I thought you were good at fixing things. Can't get them to stay fixed?"

"I'm getting a better deal on Coke than Pepsi, so I'm switching," he shrugged. "Can't have any fraternization between the two warring factions, you see."

Quatre felt warmed by the dry humor that Trowa displayed, even if it wasn't directed at him. Trowa realized he'd finished in the bathroom and tilted his head in the direction of the tables.

Quatre sighed and started taking the chairs down and placing them on the floor. He took his time. He knew he'd probably be asked, in Trowa's nonverbal way, to clean the tabletops next. Perhaps Trowa would be in the mood to have the oil lamps on the tables tonight, too, if for no other reason than to give Quatre something to do.

He wasn't sure if he should find all these extra jobs insulting or encouraging.

Catherine Bloom leaned both elbows on the bar and stared into Trowa's eyes. "You really want this," she said.

He shrugged. "Here, I don't have to worry about watching my back so much. And it's honest work."

She glanced at Quatre meaningfully, and he shrugged again.

"You're lucky I'm not on duty yet," she said under her breath. Knowing Trowa, he'd heard her anyway.

"Sure you're not throwing away a dream?" she asked gently.

The look he gave her could have frosted Hades.

"Quatre," he barked without lifting his gaze from Catherine. "Rotate the stock in the back. I don't want the older pretzels hanging around forever."

She glanced at the blond, and noticed that he looked surprised that Trowa had addressed him, but he hurried in the back to do as he'd been bidden.

Quatre knew damn well that Trowa had probably already taken care of this particular job, but he would do as Trowa requested, even if it meant he'd have to check the expiration dates on all the bags. He was so relieved that Trowa was even speaking to him that it took him a moment to realize that he'd not been asked, he'd been ordered. He sighed again, wondering if he should have bothered showing up this morning, and praying Heero was going to be returning from this 'job' soon. He didn't think he could handle it on his own anymore.

Catherine wondered if that seemingly bogus chore meant what she hoped it did. That question was answered as soon as Quatre was out of sight and presumably out of earshot as well.

"Gamma-hydroxy butyrate," Trowa began. "Never heard the big long scientific name for it until shortly before I came home, but I don't think I'll ever forget it now."

She almost started choking, the intake of oxygen into her lungs was that quick. She exhaled slowly, not wanting to distract him. He'd only recently started to give hints as to why he'd returned home a year earlier than scheduled, just before she'd graduated from the Kern County Law Enforcement Training Academy. Although she was thrilled to have him attend her graduation, she had known that his premature return had to be the result of some sort of unpleasantness, but she hadn't expected something like this.

"Funny thing about some drugs," he said. "They are odorless and colorless, and if they have a taste, it's easily masked by alcohol. It's one of the reasons they work so well as date rape drugs. Salty Water. It's a great aphrodisiac for men, too," he added bitterly. "Causes temporary amnesia, disinhibition, heightened tactile sensitivity, 'enhancement of male erectile capacity,'" he gestured with his fingers to indicate he was quoting, "and increased intensity of orgasm. Should be on everyone's breakfast menu, right?"

"They...they make test strips for that, now," she offered lamely, wanting to cut out her tongue for interrupting. With her luck, he'd never finish telling her what had happened.

"It's easier to just obtain my own drinks," he said, making a sweeping gesture to encompass the bar. He leaned against the back counter, next to the register, and crossed his arms. 

"No traces are left in the blood stream twelve hours after ingestion. Funny how they found me after eleven and a half. By the time they'd dragged me in for the blood draw, the test results were...ambiguous."

Meaning they'd been negative, but there had still been reasonable suspicion that Trowa had indeed partaken of GBH. She wanted to cry. He'd been so damn pleased with his acceptance into the program, and she'd been just as proud.

"You could have fought it..."

"How? I couldn't remember anything! As it was, I'm lucky I wasn't court-martialed!" he exploded. "Cathy, it didn't matter at that point anyway. I couldn't work with them anymore. You can't fight the enemies without if you're surrounded by them from within."

"Why not just get transferred to another-"

He shook his head. "So I could start all over again, only this time with a reputation, based on suspicion and speculation, preceding me? No thanks. The dream is OVER, Cathy." He sighed heavily, then said, his voice quite a bit calmer, "besides, if it wasn't that, I'm sure they would have done something else, like invoked Article 125."

She wracked her brains to remember what that was and blurted out the first thing that came to mind when she finally did.

"You can really be brought up on charges for getting a hummer?"

Quatre's ears in the backroom perked up at Catherine's exclamation. What did she just say? He found himself inching closer to the door.

Trowa frowned at her, but she caught the slightest twitch of his lips before he did. Encouraged, she pressed that advantage.

She adopted a contemplative expression and put a hand under her chin, tapping one finger against her lips. "Don't you think it grossly unfair that you can have sex with a sheep, as long as you don't give it head or bugger it up the ass?"

"Cathy!" Trowa gaped at her choice of words, and then he threw back his head and laughed.

Quatre dropped the bag of pretzels still clutched in his hand and risked peeking around the corner.

Trowa was laughing?

He'd known Heero didn't laugh. From the moment Quatre had met him, he'd never expected things to get as far as they had, and he'd been incredibly pleased with his progress, at least until Heero had withdrawn from him just when it seemed that there could be more than friendship between them.

But it wasn't until now that it struck him. He'd never heard Trowa laugh before, either. It was just one of those things he hadn't noticed until he realized what he'd been missing.

Who the hell was this woman? And just how intimately acquainted with this cop was Trowa?

They must be pretty damn close, he thought with a hint of anger, to be talking about sex - with animals, even! - in such an easy manner. He picked up the bag he'd dropped. The glare he gave it put most of Heero's to shame.

Pretty damn close.

~~~~~

Duo couldn't focus on the screen with Heero's right shoulder mere inches away. Even the classic movie channel couldn't hold his interest.

One more day.

Despite the fact that he'd told Heero he had a good feeling about this one, he should be coming up with a contingency plan in case Peacecraft decided to play hard ball at the last minute. But Wufei had his cell phone off, and if that were the case...his partner had either figured things were definitely looking to end up in their favor, much as Duo had, or he'd simply decided there was no use fighting a losing battle.

Wufei had no trouble with losing battles...did he? Not that he particularly liked to lose, but that he didn't let the odds get to him.

Somehow that didn't seem to ring true, even though they'd taken it upon themselves to enter into what should have been a number of losing battles, at least in the beginning.

Hell, Duo thought crossly. He'd worked with the man for a couple of years now. They'd practically become overnight successes, which was almost unheard of, because they worked well together and combined their strategies and taken a few risks early on.

As he'd told Heero, those ventures with the greatest chance of failure tended to reap the largest rewards if they succeeded, and it had only taken a few of those successes to give them a leading edge and a formidable reputation. You couldn't buy those things, but they, in turn, sure as hell allowed you to buy almost everything else. Almost.

He glanced at Heero out of the corner of his eye.

Heero's posture seemed relaxed, but there was a tightness around his eyes that suggested he wasn't completely at ease.

The best way to sneak up on your prey was to lure it into a sense of security.

He set his empty plate on the table before getting up to stretch. He took a few steps away and turned so his profile was visible to Heero. He could feel the weight of Heero's gaze upon him as he closed his eyes and arched his back. He slit his eyes open enough to see Heero staring at his hand as he scratched his stomach lightly. He dipped his fingers a bit lower so they brushed the top of his jeans and caressed his navel with his thumb. He still owed Heero for that little stunt yesterday. He hadn't regretted the outcome one bit, but he didn't want the man thinking he held the upper hand. As the expression went, 'the opera isn't over until the fat lady sings.'

"Marguerite D'Alvarez wasn't fat," Heero said.

It took Duo a moment to realize that he'd spoken that last part aloud. Hell, might as well ask, then. He opened his eyes the rest of the way.

"Who?"

"Marguerite D'Alvarez. She played the part of Carmen. She wasn't fat. Not even Rubenesque, really."

Duo stared at him and managed to keep his jaw from hitting the floor at the downright seductive tone of Heero's voice.

"Her operatic debut was as Dalila. From _Samson et Dalila_." Heero gave him one of those enigmatic almost-smiles and a half shrug. "I took music history as a summer elective at UCLA. Mount Sierra didn't offer much that interested me that semester."

Duo was completely dumbfounded. Heero had just shared more in response to an off-the-cuff comment, one that he hadn't even intended to utter aloud, than he'd shared at any other time during the entire week. It was a hell of a lot more than a simple one-word response. He'd just learned more about Heero than he had trying to get a feel for his personality through roundabout means. Like his reactions to works of art or what he looked for in a computer. Heero had even gone beyond answering a simple question and had voluntarily thrown in a bit about himself. It was even more than he'd revealed in response to direct inquiries.

So Heero had gone to college in California at some point. And as Duo had learned the other night, he'd also gone to school in Japan, and some other city...Montclair, that was it. Montclair, California? Was Heero a native of the Golden State?

While Duo attempted to process this latest acquisition of knowledge, Heero got up from the loveseat and headed for the bedroom. He hadn't meant to blurt out that comment about the opera singer, but the name had popped into his head, most likely due to the ill-timed appearance of Alvarez at the gallery two nights ago.

__

Samson et Dalila. It suited Duo, with the wealth of hair he possessed. He could almost see it being the source of his strength.

He dismissed the idea immediately. To think that was to disregard all the other aspects of Duo's personality, and to view him in a shallow light. Duo was certainly driven, and a force to be reckoned with, but he'd be just as commanding if he decided to shave his head.

Heero had to admit, though, that the image of Duo as some ancient Greek god, with his hair flowing around him, shooting lightning bolts from his fingertips, was capable of engendering some rather wicked thoughts. No wonder Zeus got all the action, he mused. It was all in the presentation, not in the appearance.

Duo's appearance, of course, wasn't lacking in the slightest.

He pulled the other pair of jeans Duo had purchased for him from the closet, this pair even more faded than the ones he'd worn on Thursday. The fabric was bleached to almost white, and the chemical processing had made the denim frayed along all the seams. The knees and back pockets were threadbare in spots, but there weren't any actual holes in them as there had been in the other jeans. They didn't cling to his legs quite as snugly as the ones Duo was currently wearing fit him. Since Duo had a somewhat larger build, it was expected that he'd fill out his wardrobe a bit more. Which was most likely why he'd requested the custom made suit for Heero that he'd worn on Thursday. He was considerably slimmer than most men.

An indescribably soft indigo colored shirt was next. He pulled it over his head and fidgeted with the open neckline that left part of his shoulders and collarbone bare. He felt more naked in that than if he'd been wearing nothing at all. He smoothed the fabric over his abdomen and then padded back to where he'd left Duo.

Duo was at the desk using his laptop. His old one. The one Heero had designed was still packed away in its leather case. Then Duo laughed and gestured for Heero to join him.

"Check this out," he said as Heero approached the desk and stood behind him, leaning over his shoulder. "This was one of Meiran's more unconventional fund raising ideas. She went through this phase where she wanted to capture the inner child, so she couldn't be satisfied with something like that outdoor event we went to on Wednesday. She went all out, constructed a 'kiddy karnivale,'" he pointed to the spelling on the screen, "complete with dunk booths and basketball throws, and this." He scrolled down the page to show Heero another photo, this one of someone he assumed was Meiran, but he couldn't tell, because although the dark hair was visible, her face was covered with white cream and bits of pie crust.

"Meiran isn't one to ask anyone to do something she wouldn't do herself, so here she is, taking her turn at the pie-throwing booth. She never did manage to talk Wufei into it, but she came damn close."

Heero couldn't help but smile at the idea of the spirited woman he'd met doing her best to cajole her husband into something like that.

Then his eyes fell on another photo that was a bit lower on the page and he sucked in a breath. Duo noticed the direction of his gaze.

"That," Duo said, his voice flat. "Is Hilde. My ex."

It was the girl Heero thought he'd recognized in the picture that had been sent to Duo on Monday, just before the computer lost power. In this photo, she was helping Meiran clean bits of pie filling out of her hair, and the two of them were laughing.

And suddenly he remembered why Milliardo Peacecraft's stride looked so damn familiar.

tbc

~~~~~

__

Aria literally means "air" in Italian. In general terms, it is a set piece in an opera with a real beginning and end to it. Or it can be summed up by saying that an aria serves to carry the plot forward or to express a particular emotion.

mosstone - a moderate yellow green that is yellower and deeper than average moss green, yellower and darker than average pea green, yellower and duller than apple green, and yellower, lighter, and slightly stronger than spinach green. It is one word - that wasn't a typo.

Bulleit - a brand of bourbon - billed as "frontier whiskey"

Article 125 of the Uniform Code of Military Justice is the military's version of an anti-sodomy law criminalizing anal and oral sex. Yes, sodomy includes oral sex between a man and a woman. 

The article is listed under the Punitive Articles in Subchapter X of the UCMJ. Its text states: "(a) Any person subject to this chapter who engages in unnatural carnal copulation with another person of the same or opposite sex or with an animal is guilty of sodomy. Penetration, however slight, is sufficient to complete the offense. (b) Any person found guilty of sodomy shall by punished as a court-martial may direct."

About.com provides a nice explanation, which appears to be taken from the UCMJ as well, but I am unable to verify that. Here it is anyway: "It is unnatural carnal copulation for a person to take into that person's mouth or anus the sexual organ of another person or of an animal; or to place that person's sexual organ in the mouth or anus of another person or of an animal; or to have carnal copulation in any opening of the body, except the sexual parts, with another person; or to have carnal copulation with an animal."

So actually, Cathy is close in her teasing observation about sex with animals being "OK," but nonetheless incorrect. Article 125 DOES frown upon bestiality, but I find it rather humorous that it seems to be...not quite an afterthought, but something akin to one. That's just MY perception of the wording, and by now you must know that my mind tends to make rather bizarre leaps at times!

Rubenesque - a term applied to something in the style of Peter Paul Rubens, a Baroque era painter who portrayed women as having lush curves and voluptuous figures. The idea of "overweight" is a matter of opinion, and some people think "Rubenesque" is another word for "fat" - where others view it as "the way women SHOULD look." And beauty is, after all, in the eye of the beholder! There's an interesting mini-debate on this word that can be found here:  
http : // magazine . passion . com / magazine / advice / 17698 . html


	36. Dramatis Personae

****

The Edulcoration of Duo Maxwell - 36/?

~~~~~

Warnings: AU, yaoi, coarse language, violence, angst, cliffhangers, red herrings, mention of various vices, random bits of useless knowledge, occasionally explicit sex.

Rating: NC-17

Spoilers: None for GW, and I'm now quite convinced almost nada for Pretty Woman.

Disclaimer: I don't really need to be Captain Obvious here, do I? No ownership, no money being made, yadda yadda. Written for fun, not profit.

Archived at:   
http : // www . atsui . org  
http : // www.gundam-wing-diaries . 150m . com / gw / Mookie / gwmookie . htm

__

Edulcorate (verb) - To free from harshness (as of attitude); to soften

~~~~~

****

Chapter 36 - Dramatis Personae

Wufei opened his eyes and was stunned to see the sun streaming through the blinds.

He tried to turn around to see the clock, but Meiran was blocking his view. One of his arms was wedged between her body and the mattress, and his hand was completely numb. Flexing his fingers to increase the blood flow there sent pins and needles up his arm and he winced.

Then Meiran made a murmur of contentment, and he couldn't help smiling.

The minor discomfort was worth it, after last night. She rolled over, freeing his arm, and blinked up at him. He felt the edges of his lips twitch, and she returned the smile, then rested her head on his stomach, placing one hand against his hip, and closing her eyes. Her eyelashes fluttered against his skin and he shivered.

Sex with Meiran was like...well, he really had nothing to compare it to. He and Meiran had lost their virginity to each other in college, at the end of their freshman year. Of course they'd gone to the same school. It had been inconceivable that they'd even consider attending colleges at opposite ends of the country.

He had been so excited and eager for 'it' to happen, the first time they'd tried, and he'd been so overwhelmed by the site of her naked body that he'd managed to embarrass himself as soon as she reached out a tentative hand to touch him.

He was certain she'd adopt the teasing attitude she had, and his face had flamed. It was one of the few times he'd felt like crying, the experience had been that humiliating.

She did tease him, but not in the way he'd expected. She'd simply continued to reach for him, seemingly unfazed, and cupped his wet, dripping, flaccid, completely useless member. Then she'd waited for him to look up and meet her gaze.

When he finally did, she'd leaned forward and kissed him gently, and he felt anything but pity in that simple joining of lips. It had been reassuring, true, but Meiran had seemed a bit bolder than usual. As if she'd discovered the power she had over him, but instead of using it against him, was channeling that energy into fueling her own awakening passion.

He'd been dumbfounded to see her bite her lip, struck with the desire to lick the tiny droplet of blood that action caused. Then she leaned back on the bed and gave him a sexy little smile, one that was more innocent than seductive, and would have looked ridiculous on anyone else. The whole time she managed to keep at least part of her hand in contact with his crotch. When she used the other one to touch herself, he'd lost his ability to breathe.

By the time she'd awkwardly managed to bring herself off, something that seemed to surprise her more than it had him, he was rock hard again, but they chose not to push their luck.

She just wiped her sticky hands on her bare thighs and brushed a lock of sweat damped hair from her forehead with the back of her hand, then smiled timidly and said, "I assume it was good for you?"

~~~~~

Heero could hear the voice plain as day in his head.

Took you long enough, Yuy. And here I'd always thought you were a smart guy. By the way, I think I should feel insulted for a variety of reasons.

He had realized from that first meeting at the Samurai that Milliardo Peacecraft had been in the armed forces, because there was just something about military personnel, in the way they walked, and in the tone of their voice, that never seemed to go away. Not if they'd been dedicated to their service. He'd suspected he saw traces of that many times when he and Quatre had been at the bar.

But those who had been in the special forces...there was a deeper underlying confidence to their posture, their carriage, and their mannerisms, that just didn't fade with time.

And now that he'd placed it, he was amazed that he'd not seen it sooner. Deep down he'd suspected that intercepting that instant message had been a portent of things to come, he grudgingly admitted, and yet allowed the onslaught, despite his feeble attempts at remaining incognito. Why else would he have approached Hitomi-san at Prada Men, wearing leather pants and a blond wig? His grandfather's associate was a hell of a lot more astute than Alvarez had been.

The structure of broken pencils was in danger of collapsing, but he'd known that for some time now.

"Heero?"

Duo's breath was in his face as the seated man turned to look up at him inquiringly.

Heero licked his lips and straightened, leaving the intimate cocoon of shared breath that had been far too tempting. The monarch butterfly wasn't yet ready to leave the chrysalis.

"Do you miss her?" he asked, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Hilde?" Duo sounded surprised. "No. Yes. I don't know. Maybe, a little."

Well, what else had he expected? Duo had said that he'd been involved with the woman for three years, on and off.

And he hadn't been the one to break things off.

Hilde had dumped Duo the night Heero had met him.

How's that for a kick in the pants, Yuy? You have to admit, the irony is rather amusing.

Shut up, he groused at the familiar voice in his head. See if I ever give you a back rub again.

You will and you know it, no matter how mad you think you are, it taunted.

"Try me," he muttered under his breath.

And damned if that voice didn't full out laugh at him while Duo looked at him in confusion.

~~~~~

The second time Wufei and Meiran had decided to explore their emerging sexuality after that first disastrous attempt, they'd limited their experimentation to touches only, which was enough to alleviate their mounting frustration without adding undue pressure.

By their second semester, they'd both worked their way through various techniques that Meiran had picked up from girls in her dorm and one or two that Wufei was sure his roommate was making up when he'd bragged about them to another boy on their floor. Neither of them had been surprised at how much more Meiran gleaned from her gender than Wufei ever did from his. Girls had no compunction about consulting magazines or comparing notes or gushing about who they did or where they did it, competing for shock value in an effort to appear worldly and sophisticated, but achieving the exact opposite. At least that was true in Meiran's opinion, although she was rather grateful for the tips.

The last day of school, when Wufei and Meiran were both packed up and ready to go back home, they'd decided to take advantage of the fact that Meiran's roommate had finished all her exams and left the campus two days earlier.

Wufei had snuck into the girl's dorm, just like countless generations of eager freshmen had before him, and they'd made love for the first time.

It had been clumsy, and had taken several tries, and fumbling with three different condoms first, and in the end, Meiran had been left unsatisfied physically, but he'd known, even at nineteen, that he'd never want for another woman again.

Now here they were, years later, married, and the sex was hotter than ever.

How could he have denied himself Meiran's touch so many nights, simply because he was too busy devising a plan of attack against this company, or investigating the background of that one?

"What are you thinking about?" Meiran's sleepy voice asked, her lips moving against his abdomen.

"You."

"Mmmm. Anything good?"

"Very."

"I love how loquacious you get after a night of mind-blowing sex," she said, her voice muffled.

"And I love you."

She fell silent. Wufei's words made her want to start crying, but she didn't want to ruin this perfect moment by adopting the reaction of a silly pulp fiction heroine.

It was like he'd come back to her. Her wonderfully noble, stubborn, sexy, pigheaded-as-all-hell, passionate, protective spouse, her Wufei, was back.

She wasn't letting him get away from her this time. She'd follow him to the gates of hell if she had to, and drag him back by his ear, just like Mrs. Chang had when she'd caught him out past sundown when they were five.

"Wufei."

"Meiran."

She propped herself up on one elbow, then ran a single fingernail along his hipbone, up his side, all the way to his armpit until his body registered that it tickled and he jerked away from that teasing touch.

He grabbed the offending hand and rolled on top of her, pressing the back of her hand to the mattress.

"You're playing with fire, woman," he growled, and she loved the way her insides turned to mush at the husky tone of his voice.

"Burn, baby, burn," she breathed.

Just as he leaned in to kiss her, she put her free hand in front of her face, catching his lips in the palm of her hand and pushing his head back.

"Wufei."

"What?" his impatience was obvious, but she didn't dare laugh. Not just yet, or things could get rather embarrassing.

"Get off me," she ordered.

"Why?"

"I need to use the bathroom first."

~~~~~

Relena Peacecraft was practically wringing her hands, waiting for her brother to leave.

She trusted that he wouldn't change his mind and enter into a binding contract with Romefeller without further investigation, but she also knew that he was eager to make a decision, and might be inclined to be a bit hasty as a result. The last thing they needed was to end up in a worse situation than the one posed by Duke Dermail and his granddaughter.

Milliardo despised indecision. His theory was that it was easier to ask for forgiveness than for permission, something he'd practiced without abandon since she could remember.

She was going to follow that same maxim. She knew he'd forgive her eventually, but if he knew what she was going to do today, he'd have the phone service in the house cut off, and would have Pagan breathing down her neck if she went anywhere other than the bathroom.

If she knew her brother, he was going to be rather preoccupied today, doing his damnedest to figure out the best option for the future of Peacecraft Corp. Or, if not the best, at least one he felt he could live with.

She looked at the clock for the sixth time in as many minutes, hoping he was planning on leaving soon. With the time difference, she only had a few hours when she could make the call and be reasonably sure of reaching her ally.

~~~~~

Duo couldn't see his lips move, so it was hard to tell what Heero had just said, but it sounded almost like "buy me." That didn't make any sense, though, even taken out of context. Not the buying part, because he'd already done that.

No, that wasn't right. It was true that he'd purchased Heero's services for the week, but his money couldn't buy him Heero.

And there's a difference?

There was a world of difference. It was the difference between the way he'd been able to tell Hilde he'd loved her when only in the throes of orgasm, but never wanted her to hang around afterwards for cuddling.

It was the difference between how he'd promised fidelity, although not in so many words, and yet insisted on wearing a condom whenever they were intimate, even though she was on the pill, and had been for years. She'd assumed he was fucking everything in a skirt, and was using protection to avoid accidentally passing on anything he might have picked up from one of his other conquests. They'd had quite a row about that.

It was the difference between flirting with Meiran in front of Wufei and being practically groped by Rita Landry right under her husband's nose.

"Can I ask you a question, Heero?" he asked, standing up to put enough space between them that he could think straight.

"You just did." 

He frowned slightly. "A personal one." He walked over to the armchair, and as he expected, Heero followed, assuming his usual place on the loveseat.

Duo would swear that those amazingly beautiful eyes, dazzlingly blue without the ubiquitous contact lenses in place, held a hint of mischief as Heero replied, "you are welcome to exercise your first amendment rights." Almost as an afterthought, he added, "just as I am welcome to exercise my fifth."

"Ever see the movie Silence of the Lambs, Heero?"

That wasn't a question Heero had expected.

"Yes, I have."

Duo actually laughed. "And here I thought you'd tell me you read the book."

"I did."

"Ah, Hannibal Lechter," Duo said. "Quite a guy, wouldn't you say. Know my favorite line in the entire movie?"

"Something about fava beans and a nice chianti," Heero guessed, warmed by the surprised laughter that response evoked.

"You never cease to surprise me, Heero, but you're incorrect. My favorite line is the essence of the story, to me. The price Clarice had to pay for every precious drop of knowledge she squeezed from Hannibal." 

That was all he needed to say.

Quid pro quo.

This for that. What for what. Something for something. Tit for tat.

Heero was well acquainted with the term. He was sure Duo must have entered in several quid pro quo agreements that benefited his company, but perhaps didn't offer an equitable trade in return. Survival of the fittest, when the tit wasn't on par with the tat. 

Quid pro quo. Three words in succession that Heero hated with a passion, when used in other contexts. Political favors. Grants of immunity.

Quid pro quo. A necessary evil at times, as he damn well knew.

"What do you want to know, Doctor Lechter?"

~~~~~

After giving up on the pretzels, a rather pathetic means of distraction from his jumbled thoughts, Quatre hastily made his excuses and left Trowa and Cathy at the bar, then had wandered up and down Hollywood Boulevard. He actually managed to convince a young, rather disheveled looking, gentleman in a wrinkled business suit that he needed Quatre to take his mind off his troubles, and he easily negotiated a price far more than he'd normally charge.

It didn't take long to find out that the man had lost his job the day before, but Quatre didn't feel the least bit guilty for overcharging. A suitable distraction was what he wanted, although he adamantly insisted that applied to the stranger and not to himself. You couldn't get what you wanted without paying the price for it.

However, with his mind preoccupied as it was, he found himself in a situation that quickly turned ugly. The man wanted to do more than talk. It was rare for Quatre to so thoroughly misread someone's intentions, but not only did this man want a physical release, it was clear he wanted it rough, and he wanted Quatre to be uke.

The man had obviously spent the night, and probably a good portion of the previous evening as well, dulling his senses via the 40 ounce bottle of Camo he'd been stubbornly clinging to when Quatre found him. From the way he smelled, it hadn't been his first, perhaps not even his fifth. If not for that slight advantage, Quatre suspected he might have ended up in a position he'd refused everyone with the exception of Heero.

He almost hated Heero for that. He'd saved it, like some schoolgirl holding out for the captain of the football team, and had been ready to hand it over to Heero on a silver platter. It was a virginity of sorts, and yet it hadn't been good enough for his roommate.

He was being unfair, but he resented the fact that at least Heero had gotten to experience it as something to be enjoyed, something that was more than 'just sex.' Quatre resented that he'd been the one who had given that to Heero before he'd turned around and made it clear that he still planned on turning tricks, sullying the memory of what they shared and making it seem like something shameful.

He didn't care that he'd been the one to plant the idea of prostitution in Heero's head in the first place, albeit unintentionally. It still hurt. The fact that he hadn't thrown Heero out of the apartment after that should have been proof enough that Quatre loved him.

He stared at the slumped form of the erstwhile businessman in a state of shock. He had actually done it - applied pressure to the carotid artery long enough to render the man unconscious. Trowa and Heero had been debating the practicality and effectiveness of such a technique one night when Quatre had returned from the restroom, fifty dollars wealthier than when he'd left the two of them.

He wouldn't have believed it would work, but he'd run out of options, as the man was certainly in no mood to listen to any of Quatre's persuasive arguments.

After that near rape, he'd avoided returning to the apartment right away with all its reminders of Heero. He'd tried window-shopping to kill time, but all he could see was his own reflection staring back at him. When had he let himself become nothing more than a sex toy? Sure, he didn't let anyone penetrate him anally, but that was only one aspect of sex.

He had set out to spite his father, to flaunt in his face that he was proud of his sexual orientation, that he was determined to be what he wanted to be, not some cookie cutter figure who only got his job because Daddy owned the company. Instead he'd slunk away in the night like an embezzler in danger of getting caught, without leaving so much as a note. Way to wave the gay pride banner, Quatre.

He was the youngest in the family, with eight older sisters. Iria was closest to his age, but even she was so much older that they'd never really played together or done whatever manner of childhood activities he assumed other siblings enjoyed.

It was almost amazing that the two of them had managed to become as close as they had. The age difference between the others and himself was so vast, they seemed more like schoolmarms or stepmothers to him than sisters. It seemed as if he could never do anything right, either. Stop smiling like that, Quatre; you look like a cretin. Wipe your face off, Quatre; you should _eat_ your ice cream, not wear it. Sit up straight before you embarrass us in public. Stop fidgeting, Quatre. People will doubt Father's ability to manage the business if it looks like he can't even control his children.

Tie your shoelace before you fall, Quatre, and then I promise that I'll push you on the swing. That had been Iria.

OK. So Iria had indeed played with him, not caring that she should have been pursuing interests more becoming a young woman of good breeding. She'd been protective of him, in stubborn defiance of their older siblings, but more importantly, she'd let him be himself. She'd been the one to give him hugs instead of disapproving frowns and a clucking of tongue against teeth.

It was the reason he knew he'd give in and go home if he allowed himself to hear her voice.

When the neighboring state of California had passed the bill enabling same-sex couples to register for domestic partnership, obtaining some of the legal rights taken for granted by married couples, his oldest sister, Almira, had made some comment that left no question as to her opinion of homosexuals. And his father hadn't seemed at all fazed by her sudden entry into a rather colorful, inappropriate, and disrespectful monologue.

Quatre, who had just started to accept that the wet dreams he had, and the images that he pictured when he masturbated, were less a typical adolescent exploration of sexuality and more a sign of his orientation, had been devastated by Almira's verbal assault.

After graduation, he'd taken his place like a good little son. It had been no trouble at all to separate his sexuality from his professional image. Heterosexuals did it all the time. 

No one could hold down a job if they were focused on an aspect of their personal lives to the exclusion of all else. You didn't see professional athletes fumbling interceptions or failing to reach the safety of home plate simply because they were too busy ogling the buns on the other team to recognize that there was a time and place for everything.

It had been all well and good until his father asked him to head up a committee responsible for some groundbreaking relations with a potential partner.

One who was vocally, vehemently homophobic. Since Quatre didn't project the stereotype of a pansy faggot that the man expected was the image of all gay men, he had no idea of Quatre's internal struggle to remain quiet. He wanted to haul off and punch the man across the face, then ask how it felt to have his clock cleaned by a queer, but instead he'd listened to the snide comments all through the meeting. Although Quatre maintained his professionalism, it appeared that the older, more experienced businessman did not need to accord him the same respect.

Most likely, there was some recent incident in the man's life that had brought his antagonism toward homosexuals to the forefront of his mind, but that was no excuse for his conduct. At the end of the day Quatre had gone home and scrubbed himself raw, so disgusted had he felt that he'd just let the man's reprehensible behavior slide as he made those horribly inaccurate, hurtful, and inappropriate comments. Why hadn't he said anything? It wasn't like he'd needed to stand on a table and announce his sexual orientation, but he could have at least reminded the man that this was not the forum for such topics. He'd gone out of his way to pretend it didn't bother him, going along with the preconceived image of a clean-cut, wholesome, 100% straight American boy in order to win over a man who possessed far less class than half the custodial staff.

After his shower, he'd dressed in a pair of loose pants and gone to bed, even though it was still early. In the middle of the night he woke up, feeling a sense of emptiness, and had gone to the music room. He hadn't played the piano since his freshman year in high school, but that night he forgot that he'd given it up in some misguided attempt to be more macho, and had given in to the siren call of the black and ivory keys.

His hands quickly cramped after several years of neglecting the craft, but he kept on, plodding through his mistakes until his fingers managed to remember the notes, and he ignored the pain as his speed picked up. It hurt, but it also felt damn good, this acceptance of the piano as a part of who he was. 

All the melodies he coaxed from the instrument were melancholy, but he infused them with an underlying tone of determination and defiance. He played a medley of styles that he persuaded to work together, as if the notes were sentient beings, including a few unfinished pieces he'd written before denying himself the simple joy of playing. The transitions between each part were seamless, and he lost himself in the music.

He finished with a discordant clash of his fists on the keyboard as the last note still hung in the air. He bowed his head as if in prayer, feeling the sweat drip from the tip of his nose to his clenched hands, and beads of perspiration run down the length of his back before slipping beneath the drawstring waist of his pants. It didn't take long for his senses to register that he wasn't alone, and probably hadn't been for some time.

His father stood in the doorway, the rising sun behind him, casting his face into shadow. Quatre got up and managed to say two words, words that sounded hoarse, as though his voice had been getting the same kind of workout that his hands had.

"I quit."

The older man made no move to stop him, and the next day Quatre had complained of a seasonal bug to avoid explaining to his sisters why he was not going in to work that morning. Maybe Almira should be the one to ensure the man's interest in Winner Industries. If he hadn't told his father he wanted out, he'd have refused to allow the company to even consider entering into partnership with that low-life poor excuse for a human being.

While everyone was otherwise occupied that day, leaving Quatre alone in the house, he'd grabbed the cash from his wallet, then withdrawn a significant amount of money from various accounts using several ATM cards. Then he broke the cards in half and disposed of them.

He knew it was insane to carry that much cash on his person, but no more insane than staying in Henderson, pretending to be what he was not. In retrospect, staying and taking a stand would have been far more productive, but he'd been young and impulsive. Not much had changed since then, it seemed.

When he'd stumbled into the bar shortly after his arrival in Hollywood, not realizing at first that it was, in fact, a bar, he'd asked to use the phone. When the quiet young bartender peered at him from beneath incredibly long mahogany colored bangs and nodded, he'd called Iria to let her know he was OK. He dialed her work number with shaking fingers, giving the phone number of the bar as a place she could reach him, even though he knew it wasn't likely he'd manage to gain admittance to the establishment a second time. The bartender raised an eyebrow but said nothing, and Quatre had a tiny flare of hope that perhaps his sister might be able to reach him here after all.

He'd been surprised that Trowa kept letting him come back, and had never once asked to see any ID.

Which was just as well, because Quatre had deliberately left it back home.

tbc

~~~~~

Dramatis personae - cast of characters

Homosexuality and adolescent development - I don't know where the stats come from, or how accurate they are, but approximately 10% of adolescents (13 to 19 years of age) experience homosexual behavior of some sort, primarily with a peer. This experimentation, which includes mutual masturbation and manual stimulation of each other, is not necessarily indicative of future sexual orientation.

Camo High Gravity Lager - a clear malt liquor containing 8.5% alcohol. I don't think it's made anymore, but it was popular due to the rapid effects of the alcohol in the bloodstream. Many people found themselves sufficiently impaired after a single 40-ounce bottle.

California does indeed offer some legal rights to couples in committed same-sex (and heterosexual) relationships, provided they register as domestic partners with the state. The registered status can also be terminated, just like a marriage can. You can check out some of the information here at the California Secretary of State's web site: http : // www . ss . ca . gov / dpregistry/

A note on ensure vs. insure - I vacillated between the two spellings, as I tend to use the spelling "insure" which is a synonym for "ensure." Ensure, insure, and assure all indicate the making certain a particular outcome, but insure stresses the taking of necessary measures beforehand, and since Almira was uninvolved with the prospective partner prior to Quatre's defection, I went with ensure. That, and that it just really irks me when people assume I've misspelled the word if I use "insure" instead.


	37. Inertial Guidance

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The Edulcoration of Duo Maxwell - Chapter 37

~~~~~~~

Warnings: AU, yaoi, coarse language, violence, angst, cliffhangers, red herrings, mention of various vices, random bits of useless knowledge, occasionally explicit sex.

Spoilers: None for GW, and I'm now quite convinced almost nada for Pretty Woman.

Disclaimer: I don't really need to be Captain Obvious here, do I? No ownership, no money being made, yadda yadda. Written for fun, not profit.

Archived at:   
http : // www . atsui . org  
http : // www . gundam-wing-diaries . 150m . com / gw / Mookie / gwmookie . htm

__

Edulcorate (verb) - To free from harshness (as of attitude); to soften

~~~~~

****

Chapter 37 - Inertial Guidance

Duo gave his next question some thought. Should he charge ahead with both barrels blazing, or should he use his finesse to get what he wanted?

What did he want to know about Heero?

"Explain rimming to me," he heard himself say. Where the hell had that come from?

"Anilingus?" Heero was just as surprised by the question. "Kissing or licking the anus. Tongue fucking the ass," he added, and that mischievous look was back.

Duo felt all the blood rush to his groin and his hand started to drift south before he caught himself. From the cat-who-ate-the-cream look on Heero's face, an analogy which brought yet another arousing image to mind, it was obvious Heero was fully aware of Duo's sudden discomfort.

"It would seem that there are certain health risks inherent in such a practice," he said, in an obvious attempt to divert attention away from his erection. If Heero even LOOKED at his crotch, he didn't think he'd be able to carry on much of a conversation, considering what happened the last time Heero had noticed he was sporting a hard-on, just that morning. He should call the front desk and let them know there was a problem with the air conditioning, because it seemed awfully hot in there all of a sudden.

"Of course," Heero said with that half shrug of his. It took Duo a moment to remember what that was in response to.

"Would you say more so or less than cunnilingus?" He was really hurting for conversational fodder now.

"Neither, really. Depends on where your concerns lie. Some STDs can be passed via either activity. Others aren't a concern with rimming, but, considering where all the action is taking place," he actually smirked at Duo, "there are risks that are rather unique to the activity."

Duo closed his eyes, trying very hard NOT to imagine Heero illustrating why anyone would want to engage in such a thing.

"The skin around that part of the body is rich in sensory nerves," Heero continued, and Duo had to open his eyes lest the visual image combined with that husky voice cause him to require a change of pants.

"You offered to do that the first night."

Heero shrugged. "It would have cost extra."

"Why?"

"Dental dams can be used to reduce the risks. As you pointed out, there are a few inherent in the act."

"You carry dental dams around with you? I thought you refused to use them."

"A condom can be used instead, if you unroll it first and then cut along its length," Heero said. "And I'm sure you would have made it worth my while."

Duo wanted to get angry at the assumption that he would indeed have paid whatever Heero had asked, but he couldn't. It was true, after all. He'd even waved a pile of money at Heero to insure that all bases would be covered.

Then he played Heero's choice of words over in his mind. He was sure the ambiguity in the last statement had been completely deliberate on Heero's part.

"Is rimming included in this contract of ours? Or is it one of those infernal unnegotiated codicils again?"

Heero seemed to think about it for a moment, although Duo was pretty damn sure he'd made up his mind about it from the moment Duo had tried to clear up all the unknowns in their arrangement earlier in the week.

Duo almost fell out of the chair when Heero said, "of course." And then what had started out as a smirk on Heero's lips evolved into that heart stopping, sexy-as-hell half-smile.

~~~~~

Wufei rolled onto his back, his skin glistening with sweat, listening to Meiran gasping in bed next to him.

If she wasn't exhausted, _he_ sure was, but from the sounds of her breathing, he expected she wouldn't be ready for another round anytime soon.

He'd just spent a half the night, and a good portion of the morning, which was rapidly bleeding into the afternoon, doing nothing more than making love to his wife.

Not just having sex. Touching, kissing, holding. Talking. Reassuring.

She could have asked him for the moon at that moment, and he'd have been on the phone with NASA to make all the necessary arrangements.

Or at least purchased a cherry picker to see how close he could get to it on his own.

His hand drifted to hers and their fingers laced together. He brought their hands to his lips and kissed each knuckle, then nibbled all the fingertips, before returning them to their previous position between their bodies.

"Hey, Chang," she said quietly.

"Yes, Long," he returned. 

She snickered. "Hmm, maybe I should call YOU that," she mused. She was quiet a moment.

"Remember how you said you'd get rid of the car for me?"

"I meant it. I will."

Silence reigned for a moment.

"I'll kill you if you do that. I love that car."

He couldn't help it. He started laughing. When she freed her hand and reached back as if to hit him, he grabbed her elbow and pulled, bringing her body on top of his.

He kissed the tip of her nose.

"If you call me cute," she growled. "I'll make sure you're singing soprano in the shower."

"I don't think you will," he said smugly, thrusting his hips against hers.

She laughed. "Race you to the bathroom." And she did.

She won, too, but he didn't care.

~~~~~

There were so many things Duo wanted to ask Heero, but he didn't want to spend the entire day interrogating him, either. Not that he was off to a very good start. Seemed his mouth was divorced from his brain today.

Perhaps he'd learn just as much if he stopped trying so hard, just as he had earlier with that fat lady comment. It seemed Heero was suddenly inclined to release random bits of information with only the slightest bit of provocation.

Maybe if he allowed himself to do no more than spending this last day together enjoying Heero's company, he'd walk away with a much clearer picture of who Heero really was.

And if that didn't work, well, there was more than one way to skin a cat, although those methods didn't seem as desirable as they might have been earlier in the week.

Heero recognized the look on Duo's face. He was planning something. Heero's senses went on full alert, but he ignored them.

It wouldn't matter come tomorrow, anyway. He'd already made up his mind what he was going to do, and he doubted anything was going to happen to change it at this point.

~~~~~

Wufei insisted on preparing lunch for them after they'd showered. Meiran looked like he'd just gifted her with the world, and he again marveled at how lucky he was to have her.

"Duo hasn't called," she commented as he puttered about, gathering the necessary supplies for their meal.

"I know."

Her eyes narrowed, although he was facing the stove and couldn't see it.

"What aren't you telling me?"

"I turned off my cell phone last night." He turned around and actually grinned at her. The last time he'd grinned like that, he'd just finished speaking with Duo, and was practically dancing at the news that Milliardo Peacecraft was backed into a corner. A situation that seemed to change daily.

She was glad she was already sitting down. 

Wufei had turned off his cell phone. Hadn't spared more than a single glance at the clock all morning.

It felt like they were on their second honeymoon. She'd make sure to visit that bar every time they were in LA. It held nothing but fond memories for her.

"What do you think about relocating?" she blurted out.

He lowered the heat on the burner and covered the pan before turning around.

"You want to live here?"

"Maybe."

Instead of dismissing the idea out of hand, as she'd expected him to, he actually seemed to consider it.

"That would leave Duo in charge of the East Coast operations."

"You'd both be 'in charge,'" she reminded him, picking up her fork and turning it end over end a few times before holding the end and letting it swing like a pendulum. "It's just that he'd be the physical presence over there, and you'd do the same on this side of the country."

He said nothing, but she knew he was weighing the pros and cons. He finished making lunch and served them both, then sat down and started eating.

The ensuing silence was comfortable, despite the question Meiran had sprung on him, and she took the opportunity to watch him as he ate.

The lines around his eyes weren't quite so pronounced this morning. Despite what they'd spent the last twelve hours doing, with a few breaks for sleep and the call of nature in between, followed by a hasty shower that had almost led back to the bedroom...he still managed to look damn sexy when he had that meditative expression on his face.

~~~~~

Quatre finally made his way back to the apartment. He didn't return to the bar because he hadn't been able to stomach watching the two of them, Trowa and That Woman, heads bent together in conversation. He also had to admit, her presence made him nervous, and the uniform she wore seemed to say, 'I know all about you, Quatre, and when the time is right, I'm going to make sure everyone else does, too.'

It was ridiculous to feel that way, but he had to admit, it was dangerous to be in a bar with an officer of the law present. For both him and for Trowa. Despite whatever was between Trowa and That Woman, he had no reason to trust that she wouldn't decide to make sure only Quatre paid for the crime, and he didn't want to drag Trowa into this mess. The thing was, he was no longer certain that Trowa hadn't known from that first day when he let him use the phone what he was getting into. Things would have been far different if That Woman had been there the day he'd walked through that door for the first time.

No point doing the time if you weren't going to do the crime, he thought bitterly, picking up the bottle that he'd left on the kitchen table the previous evening and heading for his bedroom. He paused at the doorway, then, with a look of determination, went into Heero's instead, seating himself on the bed with his back against the wall.

If he was going to act like a spoiled rotten brat, he was going to go all out and wallow in it.

He uncapped the bottle and took a swig, wincing as the bourbon burned its way down his throat. The taste didn't do much for him, but he wasn't drinking it to cater to his taste buds. In fact, he wanted to dull his senses as much as possible. Too bad he didn't have a forty of Camo to go with it. It had seemed to work well enough for his would-be assailant.

You're making a mistake, Quatre, one of his inner voices chastised.

I thought I told you to fuck off, he growled back, and took another sip.

He picked up Heero's pillow and sniffed it. The Bulleit wasn't working yet, because the scent of Heero was still capable of making him feel all gooey inside.

He tilted his head back and took a much longer draw from the bottle.

Although it made him sputter and his eyes tear up, it somehow made him feel better at the same time.

Do the crime if you're going to do the time, a voice laughed, and he realized sometime between his fifth and sixth swigs that it had been his, and that he'd spoken out loud.

Quatre, another voice warned, this one exhibiting a familiar deadly calm. Don't do anything stupid.

Should have told me that before I fucked you, Heero, he said, closing his eyes and chugging as much as he could. So why don't you fuck off, too.

He slouched on Heero's bed, already starting to feel a bit boneless, but his grip on the bottle didn't waver.

While I'm at it, fuck you, too, Trowa. Or fuck That Woman. See if I care what either you or Heero do or where you put your dicks. Maybe the two of you should fuck each other and let That Woman watch while Heero's Daddy Warbucks beats himself off and sells tickets. Maybe I can play torch songs on the baby grand. One big happy fucking family.

The bottle was becoming dangerously empty, but Quatre maintained the death grip on its neck as he let his hurt and anger fester.

~~~~~

Milliardo Peacecraft stared at the cell phone in his hand and shook his head. The things he did for his sister's future, he grimaced, then dialed the number he'd sworn never to dial again.

"Khushrenada."

His sometimes friend and erstwhile comrade had an amazing network of people willing to do his bidding at the snap of his fingers. There was little that Treize couldn't get done, given enough time. Sometimes Milliardo doubted it was all legal, but since Treize seemed to have a finger in almost every pie, he was sure that there were people looking the other way more often than not. He was an excellent ally, and a dangerous foe, but sometimes the man's rather twisted sense of honor seemed to leave his friends, mainly himself, hanging out to dry, while perfect strangers reaped the benefits of his contacts in the business world and most likely the underground as well.

He would not be surprised to find out that, should he want to put a contract out on someone, Treize would be able to steer him in the right direction for that as well. But he probably wouldn't, citing some personal code of ethics.

"Treize," he greeted, his voice calm.

"Milliardo! What a pleasant surprise."

"Spare me the niceties, Treize," he said. "I need to speak with you. On a professional basis. Assuming, of course, that this doesn't violate some personal code of yours."

"Give me the particulars, and I'll let you know."

"And then you'll give me the info I need?"

"Tell me what you're looking for; then we'll talk."

So Milliardo explained the three companies he wanted background information on. Nothing illegal, just a straightforward check into the histories of the corporations.

He could obtain the information himself, or have Relena do it, but he wanted to make a decision before the weekend was out, and in order to do that, he had to tap into the resources at his disposal. Or at Treize's disposal, assuming the man didn't think it violated the 'no partnerships between friends' rule of his. Sometimes Treize had a different set of rules than most people.

Sometimes? Hell, the man wrote his own book on rules.

~~~~~

Now that Duo had decided to treat the day as something other than a fact finding mission, at least an intentional one, the question was what did Heero normally do in his spare time?

The only way to find out was to ask, so he did.

"What do you do when you're not working, Heero?"

"Technically, I'm working now." Was he being facetious, or putting things back into perspective? Duo couldn't tell.

"Let's just say that since I have the day off, you do, too," he replied. "So what did you do when you had weekends off?"

Heero really couldn't remember a time when weekends meant days off. There was either work to be done or there wasn't, and breaks of hours or days were scattered throughout, occurring when the workload was conducive to some well-deserved downtime.

"You can tell me," Duo teased. "Chess tournaments, perhaps? Broadway shows? Hmmm," he closed one eye and tilted his head to the side as if appraising a used car. "Monster truck rallies. Philately. Yoga." He eyed Heero up and down, picturing the man's body bent in almost impossible angles and struggled for a less stimulating mental image. "Or maybe you're one of those Bingo regulars who has no qualms about fighting with a blue-haired senior citizen over the lucky seat."

His serious tone of voice was belied by the humor in his eyes, and Heero was struck by how captivating they were. It wasn't just that Duo's eyes were one of his most striking features, although perhaps that was arguable, considering other physical attributes that Heero was much better acquainted with. It was the light in those eyes he found particularly attractive, as if Duo was glowing from within.

He didn't want to snuff out that light if he could help it.

"Sometimes I'd read. Or play Solitaire on the computer, or Mahjongg."

Ah, so that game's inclusion had been a personal choice. He wondered how many of the other games installed on Heero's computer were there because Heero actually liked them.

"Once in a while, I'd just go outside and sit under the tree in my parents backyard," he said softly, and Duo got the feeling that there was a lot more to it than that from the wistful look in his eye.

And then, Heero thought, without fail, Kitty would find a reason to go out back and launch into a round of twenty questions. I'd say something she didn't like, and she'd throw a shoe or a lump of grass or a spoiled apple at my head, and the whole time I'd do my best to pretend those visits weren't the highlight of my day, when we both knew they were.

Duo felt the seed of an idea plant itself in the back of his mind, and while Heero was temporarily lost in memories, it germinated, rapidly taking root and growing toward the front of his brain. 

He smiled, and for a split second, Heero feared that expression, when he hadn't felt that way about any of the cold, angry looks he'd been the recipient of all week.

tbc

~~~~~

(Clears throat)...I am going to wax philosophic on the chapter title for a bit, but chances are it will make LESS sense by the time I'm through.

inertial guidance - Inertial guidance systems were originally developed for ICBMs (intercontinental ballistic missiles). It's a hybrid of an inertial navigation system (INS) and control mechanisms. I don't want to get all science geeky here, because although I find it fascinating, the physics makes my head hurt. Things that struck me the most were the fact that INSs tend to be immune to jamming.

Modern-day ICBMs typically carry "multiple independently targetable re-entry vehicles" (MIRVs), enabling a single launched missile to hit several targets.

Merriam Webster's defintion of "internal guidance" is synonymous with internal navigation: " guidance (as of a missile or aircraft) by means of self-contained automatically controlling devices that respond to inertial forces."

Inertial forces! An inertial force is one "opposite in direction to an accelerating force acting on a body and equal to the product of the accelerating force and the mass of the body."

Why the chapter title? I just like the concept of inertia...a body in uniform motion - in a straight line - tends to stay in motion unless acted upon by an external force. Some sort of action must be taken in order to get a moving body to change direction or to stop. 

Inertia also refers to resistance to change.

You could probably waste an entire day trying to figure out why certain things flip a switch in my brain, so if you plan on trying to figure out the aptness of the chapter title, you might want your own forty-ounce bottle of Camo nearby.

forty - a forty-ounce bottle

baby grand - a small grand piano five to six feet in length

philately - stamp collecting

Yes, a condom can be used as a dental dam, in a pinch. Most sexual partners tend to eschew the use of dental dams as they prefer the feeling of mouth and tongue unencumbered by a square of latex.


	38. Nonet

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The Edulcoration of Duo Maxwell - 38/?

Warnings: AU, yaoi, coarse language, violence, angst, cliffhangers, red herrings, mention of various vices, random bits of useless knowledge, nonexplicit male/male sex.

Spoilers: None for GW, and I'm now quite convinced almost nada for Pretty Woman.

Disclaimer: I don't really need to be Captain Obvious here, do I? No ownership, no money being made, yadda yadda. Written for fun, not profit.

__

Edulcorate (verb) - To free from harshness (as of attitude); to soften

* * *

****

Chapter 38 - Nonet

As much as Meiran and Wufei were enjoying their escape from the rigors of daily life, and as much as they both wanted nothing more than to go back to bed, perhaps to watch TV and eat fresh fruit with whipped cream, and act like it really _was_ a second honeymoon and a normal weekend...

They both knew that they had to face reality sooner or later.

At the moment, reality was the situation with the deal that may or may not happen with the Peacecraft Corporation. The reason they'd come to Los Angeles in the first place.

"Would it bother you if you didn't succeed in acquiring this company?" Meiran asked, setting her juice glass down and running a finger along its rim.

He thought about it for a while, then shook his head.

"It could be very profitable, if we sold off its various subsidiaries. VERY profitable. It has some rather diverse interests that are going to waste, since Peacecraft is funneling the profits of the more successful divisions into those that are flagging. Losing this deal wouldn't actually hurt us financially, but it could be a hell of a lost opportunity. Besides, I hate the idea of that smug bastard leading us on a merry chase and thumbing his nose at us. Figuratively speaking, of course."

The visual image of Milliardo Peacecraft giving them the raspberry, and then turning around and looking over his shoulder as he spanked his own ass before dancing away, appeared without warning, and he shook his head to dispel it. Perhaps he shouldn't have encouraged Meiran to fetch them those last two beers last night. He'd have much preferred seeing a parade of pink elephants.

"Sure you're not just saying that because he's well acquainted with your nemesis?"

Four days ago he would have gone into apoplexy had anyone, including Meiran, even broached the subject of Treize Khushrenada.

Last night things had changed, though, and he was able to view the situation with a clear head and an opinion uncolored by self-recrimination.

It didn't mean he had to like the man, but he could admit that his own inexperience and naïveté with criminal defense cases had played a large role in his downfall.

In retrospect, it was probably the best thing that could have happened to him. He'd taken so much for granted back then. He'd taken HER for granted.

He reached across the table to take one of Meiran's hands in his. He was only human, and he'd probably make that mistake again, but it wouldn't be the end of the world. And Meiran would forgive him, and probably come up with some interesting ways for him to make it up to her.

"I don't trust that look on your face, Chang," she said. Somehow her use of his surname had become less an indication of fury and more an affectionate nickname. He rather liked it.

"Just thinking how much I can get away with now that I know how much you like it when I run my tongue along-"

She punched his arm with her free hand, using a considerable amount of strength. He didn't protest her assault, because he thought she looked rather adorable when her face was flaming like it was at the moment.

"That's bedroom talk!" she scolded. "This, in case you haven't noticed, is the kitchen!"

"This from the woman who tried to cop a feel in the cab last night."

"OK, let's get a few things straight," she said, her cheeks still endearingly flushed, but her manner brisk. "First, I DID cop a feel. There was no 'try' about it!" She seemed quite pleased with this declaration.

"And second?" he asked, adopting the most exaggerated expression of rapt interest he could.

"Second," she said, looking a little bit sheepish, "I was drunk."

"Oh," he said. "I see." He nodded, then released her hand and leaned back in his chair.

Her eyes narrowed. "What exactly do you see?"

"The dirty talk embarrasses you. I understand. I'll have to get you drunk more often."

"NO! I mean, I liked it...it's just..." she floundered for a minute, then his last words registered at the same time she realized he was smirking at her.

"Asshole," she said affectionately.

* * *

Relena deliberately avoided looking at the clock when Milliardo announced that he was meeting Treize Khushrenada for a late lunch, but she couldn't keep the surprise off her face.

"Don't read anything into it," he warned. "I'm just...exploring those other options before I decide to do anything with Romefeller."

He actually felt a strange feeling of warmth at the smile she bestowed upon him. He impulsively kissed her on top of her head before he left.

"You can clear my schedule for tomorrow. I want to have the entire day open, just in case."

She nodded. It would be just like her brother to have meetings scheduled even on the weekend. She didn't mind doing the work of a secretary, not when it was for Milliardo. Of course, that would change after graduation when she fully planned on taking a much larger role in the company's direction.

He stopped in the doorway and looked at her.

"And Relena?"

"Yes?"

"I assume your schedule is clear as well."

"Yes!"

He gave her a tiny smile, then walked out.

When he found out what she was up to, he might not want her anywhere near him on the morrow, but she didn't want to leave things to chance. It looked like her brother might be on the road to making a decision he could be proud of, but just in case, she needed to have something in her back pocket. Milliardo was the one who'd taught her to always have a Plan B.

And if it turned out she didn't actually need this person's assistance, perhaps there were other benefits that could be reaped.

Because, after all, that was the REAL reason she wanted to make this phone call.

* * *

Sally Po had given up trying to make any sense out of the recorded conversation she was listening to and started throwing pencils at the ceiling until a dozen were dangling from the drop ceiling tiles.

When her partner came in and took one look overhead, Sally shrugged as if to imply, 'what can I say? I was bored.'

One of the pencils fell to her desk, and less than five seconds later, the rest of them followed, making Sally cover her head with both arms as they clattered around her. Her partner seemed to find it very amusing.

"Just wait until YOU'RE the one trying to translate this strung out junkie's garbled stream of words and sentences." She actually snorted. "Perhaps 'sentences' is far too generous a word. Next time, I'll take trying to read a physician's handwriting any day. This is ridiculous."

She turned off the digital recorder and swung her chair around. As she opened her mouth to speak, her phone rang.

She held up a finger to tell her partner to hold that thought, then reached for her cell phone, until she realized it was her desk phone that was ringing. She held up a different finger in response to the laughter her mistake had generated, and hit the speaker button.

"Po."

"Sally," Iria greeted warmly. "I'm glad I caught you."

"You could have called the cell phone," she said, giving the other occupant of the room a meaningful look and throwing an eraser toward the smirking expression she got in return.

"You asked for a contact on the East Coast. I have good news and bad news."

Sally was suddenly all business, and her partner leaned closer as well, as if afraid to miss anything Iria said.

"Good news is, I have a name for you. The bad news...there has been an increase in the number of emergency room cases that show signs of potential substance abuse cropping up in Manhattan. You'll be contacting one of the physicians at St. Luke's-Roosevelt Hospital Center. He's handled a lot of the recent cases. The cases where the symptoms are present, but the blood tests are inconclusive, seem to be unique to the Roosevelt Division Emergency Department."

Sally wracked her brains to remember the differences between the two divisions, but her partner saved her the trouble.

"Roosevelt - that's the one near the Lincoln Center."

"It also tends to cater to the tourist and business sect," Sally remembered. She could almost picture Iria nodding in agreement.

"You'll want to speak with Nathan Geary. Nate seems to think that it might be a deliberate move, targeting unwitting guinea pigs on Roosevelt's end, seeing as the St. Luke's Division is not far from Columbia University's Medical Center."

"But on the other hand," Sally mused, "Roosevelt is practically on top of schools like Parson's and-"

The phone on the other desk rang, causing a mild curse as her partner ambled over to answer it.

"Will Geary be expecting my call?" Sally asked.

"He said he'd do his best to accomodate you whenever possible, but he'd prefer if you could try to call before lunch, as he prefers doing his rounds in the afternoons on days he isn't on call for the E/R."

Sally glanced at the clock. It was well past lunch now, but she supposed she was better off using the afternoon to compose a list of questions so she didn't need to keep pestering the good Doctor Geary because she'd forgotten something.

Iria didn't offer any additional information to share. Sally wanted to ask her if she'd heard from her brother, but didn't want to bring up a painful subject. Iria didn't need any more distractions, and it might be considered to be in poor taste to remind her.

On the other hand, what kind of friend would she be if she didn't offer her support?

"Iria," Sally began.

"Yes?"

"Forgive me for asking, but-"

"No," Iria sighed. "No, I haven't heard from him. But you're right. He's got a good head on his shoulders. And I'd nearly forgotten, he seems to have a couple of guardian angels as well."

"Guardian angels?"

Iria laughed. "Well, not exactly. But I get the impression that he has someone watching his back. I think I should be on a first name basis with the man who answers the phone every time I call looking for Quatre."

Sally hoped that was indeed the case.

"So what about the rest of your clan?"

"Almira hasn't changed since you met her," Iria said. Sally winced, remembering the way the eldest Winner daughter had looked down her nose at her when she'd first gone to Henderson with Iria to spend winter break in a much warmer climate.

"And Dad...well, he seems to be on the verge of making a decision."

From the tone of her voice, Sally assumed that meant Iria's father had been rather indecisive as of late, but there seemed to be more to it than that.

"So everything is copasetic?"

"Not yet, but getting there."

"Thanks, Iria," Sally said, hoping that she was conveying more than just simple gratitude for the work her former schoolmate had done.

"Anything for you, Miss Poo," Iria teased, using the name that Almira had insisted on calling Sally during the entire week she'd stayed with them.

Sally's partner might have looked at her oddly as she shared a laugh with Iria, but she was the only one in the office by then.

* * *

Duo walked to the desk and spent a few minutes typing furiously at his laptop computer as Heero sat on the loveseat, wondering if he was expected to stay there or not.

He did so hate to be predictable, he thought, a smile teasing the corners of his lips not for the first time that day.

The sound of clacking keys stopped, and then he peered over the back of the loveseat to see that Duo had turned to the leather tote containing the other computer. He removed each piece and assembled them without difficulty, although not nearly as quickly as Heero had.

He flexed his right index finger awkwardly after applying the cuff, then thumbed the switch on. After a few experimental motions of his finger, he had the hang of it enough to find successfully use it as an input device. Once he'd found what he was looking for, he returned to the desk and his laptop.

Duo's idea had taken root, and he wasn't sure if his plans were really all that brilliant, but he had managed to succeed in risky business ventures on occasion by going with his first impulse. He quelled the plaguing doubts that crept in and typed his criteria into the search engine.

It was certainly not what he'd imagined when he woke up that morning, but it could be interesting.

He nearly threw his half-formed plans out the window, though, when he returned to the loveseat, only to find Heero stretched out on it, with his head on one of the seat cushions and his legs apart and draped over the opposite arm rest.

His attention was riveted, not by Heero's position on the loveseat, but the sight of the unzipped jeans and Heero's hand busy between his legs.

Oh, shit, he thought.

Heero's eyes were closed, but Duo knew damn well the man knew he was standing right there, because it was then that he licked his lips and moaned softly.

If it was a show, it was a pretty damned good one. The thought made Duo's cheeks flame.

Heero removed his hand long enough to bring it to his mouth and suck on the first two fingers. Duo was transfixed by the sight, and he found himself reaching for his own zipper.

He watched Heero's hand move lower, the fingers disappearing in crotch of the jeans, touching currently unseen parts of Heero's anatomy.

Duo closed his eyes as he freed himself from the confines of his pants. He was aware of a rustle of movement followed by a warm hand covering his own.

He didn't open his eyes, but just focused on the feel of Heero's hand moving with his. Heero removed his hand just long enough to jerk the jeans past his hips roughly. Once the pants were lowered to his knees, it was back. He could feel the calluses on Heero's fingers, the slight dampness of his palm, and the image of Heero, doing what he'd done earlier that morning, danced behind his closed lids.

His eyes flew open in shock as he felt Heero's breath near his groin, and he looked down to see Heero's mouth just inches from their joined hands. That was all it took. Duo had to reach out a hand to Heero's shoulder to steady himself.

It was the first time, in all the times he'd been with Heero, that he'd not worn a condom as he climaxed.

tbc

* * *

nonet - a musical composition written for nine instruments


	39. Dissonance

****

The Edulcoration of Duo Maxwell - 39/?

~~~~~~~

Warnings: AU, yaoi, coarse language, violence, angst, cliffhangers, red herrings, mention of various vices, random bits of useless knowledge, occasionally explicit sex.

Spoilers: None for GW, and I'm now quite convinced almost nada for Pretty Woman.

Disclaimer: I don't really need to be Captain Obvious here, do I? No ownership, no money being made, yadda yadda. Written for fun, not profit.

Archived at:   
http : // www . atsui . org  
http : // www . gundam-wing-diaries . 150m . com / gw / Mookie / gwmookie . htm

__

Edulcorate (verb) - To free from harshness (as of attitude); to soften

~~~~~

****

Chapter 39 - Dissonance

Heero produced a towel from seemingly nowhere, and cleaned them up as best he could. Once he headed to the nearest bathroom, Duo pulled up his jeans and fastened them. He plopped himself on the loveseat, wondering what the hell had just happened.

Other than the obvious, of course.

What game was Heero playing? He had been wearing that same smile most of the morning, and although Duo found it incredibly attractive, he also found it rather suggestive, in that it seemed as though Heero knew something he did not.

He wasn't sure which of them was holding the upper hand anymore, but the day wasn't quite half over yet. He was going to charge ahead with his plans for the day, no matter that Heero's unexpected activity seemed to make anything he could come up with pale in comparison.

Besides, could they really spend an entire day breaking new ground, sexually?

It was very tempting to find out the answer to that question by putting it to the test, but Duo was not going to be swayed by a pair of bedroom eyes and lean hips. Not to mention a tight ass, and hair just begging to be touched...

~~~~~

Wufei smiled at his wife's light-hearted insult, then frowned.

"Maybe I should turn on the cell phone," he said.

She studied the expression on his face, and measured it against what he'd said earlier.

"You're worried about him," she announced.

"Ridiculous," he scoffed. "I worry about his ability to make sound judgements lately, that's all."

"Hmmm." She got up and brought their dishes to the sink. She rinsed them off and returned to the table, standing behind her husband and placing her hands on his shoulders.

She kneaded the muscles there as she spoke.

"Do you know what we are right now?"

"I'm afraid to ask."

She flicked a finger against his ear. "We're that disgustingly happy couple."

"Meaning?"

She laughed, a sound that made his heart soar. "Meaning that we want everyone to find bliss with the right person, merely because we are so in love, we can't imagine anyone else NOT being in love right along with us."

"Ridiculous."

"You said that already, Chang, and you know I'm right."

He thought about it. Meiran usually seemed to have her finger on the pulse of what was going on around her, but he just couldn't see it. However, he'd known her long enough to realize that she was rarely far off in her estimation. Perhaps he couldn't see it because he was one half of this 'disgustingly happy couple,' as Meiran so eloquently put it.

It wasn't necessarily a bad thing.

~~~~~

Heero returned to find Duo looking as composed as ever. He admired Maxwell's ability to rebound quickly from the unexpected.

"I have to hand it to you, Heero," Duo said, cringing internally as Heero's wide-eyed look of mock innocence let him know what he thought of that choice of words. "You seem to have things all figured out."

Heero shrugged, a gesture that was rapidly becoming...endearing.

"I, on the other hand, tend to be one who flies by the seat of his pants," Duo paused, reminding himself that it wouldn't kill him to follow through on his plan. "I need to leave for a while, but I would very much like it if you were here when I returned."

Heero was momentarily stunned. It was the first time, other than the night Duo wanted to make it 'good' for him, that he'd phrased things in such a way that their business arrangement wasn't immediately brought to mind. It sounded like a request.

What had happened to his plans of getting Duo to break their contract? His own behavior so far today had done precious little to push Duo away. Instead, it seemed all he'd done was attempt to draw the man closer.

He actually felt a twinge of disappointment at Duo's words, but managed to keep it from showing on his face. He waited for Duo to elaborate, but the longhaired man didn't seem inclined to enlighten him further.

Duo gave him a long look that seemed as if he were studying Heero's features, then walked toward the door. He pocketed the keycard on his way out. After the door closed behind him, he walked to the elevator and leaned his forehead against the wall. You can do this, he told himself. Whatever you do, don't give in to that urge to turn right around and open that door again.

You wanted to spend a day as close to 'normal' as you could get, after all.

Despite his little pep talk to himself, he was relieved when the elevator reached the penthouse floor and he was taken just a little bit further from the temptation that beckoned from behind that closed door.

~~~~~

"You and I have never had what you would think of as a normal relationship, you realize," Meiran told her husband.

"I would have said we were almost disgustingly normal."

"Ah! See? Almost disgustingly normal! No one in your line of business has a marriage like that. Therefore its very normalcy is...abnormal."

"Abnormal."

"Unusual, to say the least. No one marries their high school sweetheart anymore, let alone their childhood sweetheart! Wufei, think of it! We're the exception, not the rule! We're still married; we still understand each other," she gave him a very pointed look to suggest that would have been a lot easier if he'd told her much earlier what he'd confessed last night.

"Defeated the odds, you mean."

"Exactly! You and Duo do the same thing, you know."

"So you think things with Peacecraft will work in our favor."

She waved her hand impatiently. "Forget Milliardo Peacecraft. I mean the way you and Duo work together. You two really are very different, and yet you make those differences work for you.

"But at the same time, you aren't so different that you can't possibly work together. Your common traits help cement your working relationship, but your differences keep it from growing stagnant."

Wufei thought perhaps he might never grow tired of hearing Meiran wax philosophical, but he knew that he'd be ready to climb the walls if he didn't rein in her thoughts. Still, she had an amazingly keen observational skills, and seemed to know when two people were right for each other.

"Hilde and Duo were different," he pointed out.

Why the hell was Meiran grinning?

"Ah, but what did they have in common?"

"They are both very driven. They both enjoy physical activity when they're not working. They both have little patience for fools, and are both incredibly opinionated."

She was still wearing that big smile on her face.

"Now what?" he bristled.

"You tell me."

"About what, Hilde and Duo?"

She nodded, the smile not wavering once.

"She never really understood Duo," he said without thinking, then looked surprised to hear the words spill from his lips.

"Bingo."

"Do...do YOU understand Duo?" Despite the fact that he had long gotten over his insane jealousy of Duo where Meiran was involved, he still harbored a tiny bit of discomfort at the thought that his wife spent time thinking about another man.

"I think I do a little," she said easily, wrapping her arms around his chest and pressing her cheek against his. "Never the way I understand you, of course."

And understand him, she did. He had needed that physical assurance just now. It was a ridiculous thing, for him to worry about Meiran and Duo, but still, the feel of Meiran's arms around him and her soft breath against his face did so much to drive home how irrational his jealousy was.

"Did you know that Hilde accused Duo of being gay?" she breathed in his ear.

"What?"

She didn't answer, but Wufei was busy mulling things over in his head. How could he have been so blind? Why else would Duo be escorting Heero to all these functions? He'd been so convinced that Heero was a spy for Milliardo Peacecraft, he'd not given thought to any other possibility. Even when Duo had told him that Heero was nothing more than a whore, all it had done was fuel Wufei's fury, had made him replay Meiran's angry words the day she'd called him the same.

It seemed Meiran wasn't the only one he had taken for granted.

He had been so blinded by his own thoughts he really hadn't registered Duo's words as fact, and therefore hadn't considered that Heero might, in truth, be exactly what Duo said he was.

"I have to go out for a while," he said.

"Don't do anything stupid," she replied, giving him a kiss on the top of his head before releasing him.

"Trust me," he said, standing up and pulling her into a full embrace.

"I do," she murmured against his chest. "But I still don't want you to do anything stupid."

He laughed softly, then squeezed her tightly before walking to the door of the apartment. He plucked his key ring off a peg on the wall and removed one. Her eyes lit up as he handed it to her

"Speaking of doing something stupid," he gave a sigh of long suffering. "Try to bring it back in one piece, alright?"

"Of course. We haven't christened the backseat yet, remember?"

"Meiran?"

"Yes?"

"There is no backseat."

~~~~~ 

Milliardo Peacecraft sat across from Treize Khushrenada at a small table in a secluded corner of the restaurant. He felt that perhaps the setting gave them the appearance of being involved in some sort of shady dealings. At the rate he was going, he'd have willingly sold his soul to the devil just to insure his sister was well provided for, and to keep the Peacecraft name from being dragged through the mud in the process.

A bottle of uncorked Sauvignon Blanc was in a wire basket suspended on the edge of the table.

"Duke Dermail," Treize began without preamble. "Is, for the most part, an ambitious man. Not completely without scruples, but he tends to ignore them when he has a goal in mind. Although I doubt he would be the driving force behind an illegal scheme, he would have no compunction about participating in one, either. For Dermail, the ends justify the means."

Did that fit with what Relena had told him about the whole scapegoat issue?

He fought off the waves of jealousy and rage he got when he imagined Heero seated with his sister, involved in a discussion of hallucinogens and date rape drugs. If he'd caught them together where there weren't other people around to serve as witnesses, he'd have enjoyed nothing better than tearing the man apart with his bare hands. And enjoy it, he would. He spared only a parting thought to the man's iron grip on his arm. The fight would be even more satisfying if he had to work at it.

"Dermail also operates with a sense of underlying desperation," Treize continued. "He was, quite understandably, upset when I assumed control of Zodiac. I assume he envisioned himself as monarch of his empire, and it was a crushing blow to his ego to be removed from his position."

Khushrenada had his fingers steepled under his chin and appeared to be choosing his next words carefully.

"Not that long ago, Dermail was enjoying a similar position, this time in charge of a company called Wizard Industries. They had many diverse interests, similar to Peacecraft, and that was his downfall. He made a few hasty decisions in an attempt to make a profit quickly, and as I'm sure you realize, high payoffs are but one of many potential outcomes, but large insurmountable losses usually make up the bulk of them.

"Maxwell-Chang came along at the right time and purchased a very large share in the company. Dermail was satisfied, as he still had controlling interest in the company, with fifty-five percent of the stocks under his thumb, or so he assumed. He held fifty, and his granddaughter held five."

He took a sip of his wine and savored it before continuing.

"Then he managed to get himself mired in a rather unpleasant situation with a group of businessmen that some suspected had Mafia ties. Desperate to keep all his body parts, he parted with enough stocks to reduce him to a mere forty-seven percent. He was, however, confident that his granddaughter's contribution would still keep the controlling interest under his belt."

"So what happened?"

"Have you met Dorothy Catalonia?"

He'd met the young lady briefly, but Relena had really spent the most time with her. He'd hardly spare the girl a second thought now if not for his sister's hurried explanation, during which she'd alluded to Dorothy's cat-and-mouse comments.

"You might say that."

"She is a bit of a puppet master," Treize commented. "She has a knack for unnerving her opponents, stepping back and viewing the chaos she's caused, and then manipulating those who are most vulnerable. Dermail was a smart man when he engaged her as his assistant."

"But...?"

"Ah, yes," Treize seemed in no hurry to get to the point, but Milliardo was getting more out of him than he'd expected. Sometimes the man imparted a wealth of knowledge in his allegories, if one took the time to absorb them all for analysis at a later date.

"Dorothy tends to get bored easily. She likes to see conflict; she thrives on it. She prefers to be on almost equal footing with her adversaries, although she is not foolish enough to give away too much of any advantage she holds.

"However, she and her grandfather should have spent less time on their own schemes and communicated with each other. Dorothy's five percent, with Dermail's forty-seven, would have given them the majority of interest in Wizard.

"Had Dorothy not taken more than half her shares and cashed them in to invest in a company she saw as both a challenge and a sure thing."

"How much did she invest?"

"She was left with only two percent of Wizard's stocks."

Leaving them with a combined total of forty-nine percent. Which would still be a controlling interest, unless a single individual or entity managed to acquire all of the remaining shares.

"Maxwell-Chang," he said.

"Yes. Duo Maxwell had been courting some of the wives of half the stockholders. When things started to look rather bleak for Wizard, most likely due to backlash with his second-hand deals with the syndicate, many of the them panicked, eager to sell their shares before the market price continued to drop."

He swirled his glass and took another sip.

Duo Maxwell. Between that man and his smug, cold attitude, and Heero, who, coincidentally, had been Maxwell's companion at dinner that night, Milliardo was surprised his head didn't implode with all the anger he felt. He tried to keep his suspicions separate from the facts at hand.

"What do you know about them as far as their ethics are concerned?"

Treize actually gained a look of fondness in his features.

"Duo Maxwell is a driven young man, one who would make an excellent poker player, as he is very good at bluffing, and gives very little away other than what he chooses to.

"His partner, on the other hand, is a straightforward young man. Wufei Chang pulls no punches either, but his intents are almost always apparent up front, and he has little tolerance for dirty tricks. He leaves those up to his partner."

"Would you say that Chang is the type to lie to your face?" Milliardo asked.

Treize actually looked almost shocked. "No. I would not say that at all. Chang prides himself on his ability to triumph without resorting to underhanded schemes."

"Then how would you explain his partnership with Maxwell?"

"I am in no position to speculate on what makes two people compatible," Treize said, tilting his wineglass and examining it. He took another sip and set the glass down.

"So would you enter into a business arrangement with Maxwell-Chang?"

Treize chuckled softly. "I fear that I would never be given the opportunity. However, if I were to have the opportunity to meet with Wufei Chang directly, I would be less worried about what his partner was up to."

It seemed as if Treize put a lot of stock in Chang, for some reason. He doubted he'd get more from his friend than that.

Milliardo had been given the opportunity to meet with Wufei Chang and his wife. So whom should he believe? Maxwell, with his hints and implied threats, or Chang, who laid it all on the table?

Treize hadn't said so, but he got the distinct impression that getting involved with Maxwell-Chang could prove full of surprises. It had certainly been true so far. Perhaps not all surprises were undesirable.

He refused to make a decision without having as much information available as possible.

Their lunch arrived just before Treize began filling him in on what he'd found on the third company.

~~~~~

Sally Po looked up as her partner returned and powered down the second computer in their shared office.

"Going somewhere?" she asked.

"I spoke to Une." 

'Lady' Une, as some of the men called her behind her back, due to her almost aristocratic bearing, was their deputy administrator. Lately she'd decided that she wanted to personally approve any interstate travel.

"I'm going to LA. I'll be back on Monday."

"Be careful," Sally said.

Her dark-haired partner looked up and met her eyes, then gave a smile of weariness.

"I will do my best to refrain from getting caught up in the lure of all that Hollywood has to offer."

And that told Sally all she needed to know about the reason for the impromptu trip to Los Angeles.

tbc 

~~~~~

Dissonance - Harsh, discordant, and lack of harmony...OR...a chord that sounds incomplete until it resolves itself on a harmonious chord.


	40. Lapsus Linguae, Lapsus Memoriae

****

The Edulcoration of Duo Maxwell - 40/?

~~~~~~~

Warnings: AU, yaoi, coarse language, violence, angst, cliffhangers, red herrings, mention of various vices, random bits of useless knowledge, occasionally explicit sex.

Rating: NC-17

Spoilers: None for GW, and I'm now quite convinced almost nada for Pretty Woman.

Disclaimer: I don't really need to be Captain Obvious here, do I? No ownership, no money being made, yadda yadda. Written for fun, not profit.

Archived at:   
http : // www . atsui . org  
http : // www . gundam-wing-diaries . 150m . com / gw / Mookie / gwmookie . htm

__

Edulcorate (verb) - To free from harshness (as of attitude); to soften

~~~~~

****

Chapter 40 - Lapsus Linguae, Lapsus Memoriae

After finishing his lunch, Treize Khushrenada set down his fork and picked up his wineglass.

"Some people don't care for wine," he said. "Others drink it because it seems the chic thing to do. There is a difference between merely drinking wine..." he took a sip, swishing it about his mouth before swallowing. "...and tasting it."

He set the glass down and looked at his dining companion meaningfully.

"Not much of a wine connoisseur, are you, Milliardo?"

Milliardo might have been offended, or might have assumed the remark was intended as a slur of sorts, but he'd known Treize long enough to realize that he had a point to make, and he'd do it at his own agonizingly slow pace.

"I'm afraid not."

"When tasting wine, you call upon your sense of smell as well, of course. However, you must also take in the visual appearance. Swirling the wine in a glass," he illustrated by picking up his glass again and doing so, "enables you to judge its body.

"A white wine isn't white, of course, as you can see." He gestured to his glass with his free hand. "Depending on the grape variety, you might very well be able to judge a book by its cover, because a brown color could indicate that the wine has, quite simply, 'gone bad.'"

He held the glass under his nose and inhaled once, then set it down again.

"Swirling also helps release the aroma, giving you a chance to fully appreciate the bouquet. It should be contemplated sufficiently. It is as much a part of the wine's character as its taste."

Milliardo fought the impulse to roll his eyes, and was relieved when Treize finally took another sip, recognizing the next bit of wisdom would follow.

"The taste has its own characteristics. There is the palate of the wine, and the finish. It has body and length. All of the taste buds must be engaged, not just the ones at the front or the rear of the tongue."

He set the glass on the table and steepled his fingers together again before leaning forward slightly.

"A wine is chosen to complement the food, true, but also to complement other wines. There are those most appropriate for light dining, and others that provide an excellent finale to an elaborate meal. Some people spend far too much time in full-blown anxiety, trying to choose the wine that is just right.

"That much energy should not be spent choosing a single wine, but on choosing the appropriate medley of wines."

He sat back, and it was clear to Milliardo that he'd said all he'd planned on saying.

He felt his cell phone vibrate in his jacket pocket and reached for it, hesitating only slightly. Treize gave him a slight nod and he glanced at the unfamiliar number before answering it.

He was surprised when he heard the voice of his caller, but listened carefully to everything that was said before responding.

"Meet me at the Tiara at seven o'clock tomorrow morning. If you are not there by seven-oh-one, we have nothing to discuss."

~~~~~

Heero wanted to do nothing more than flee the confines of the suite, to walk out and start the first day of the rest of his life, as the saying went. Wanted to confront Quatre, resolve things between them, and then follow through on his other plans for the future.

And you're a big fat liar, a voice teased.

He actually looked behind him, expecting to see an impish grin and shining brown eyes teasing him.

Of course there was no one there, but for a split second, he'd so desperately wanted there to be.

Yeah, and if you actually saw her standing there, Yuy, you'd better look into finding yourself a good shrink.

That just reminded him of other things he couldn't bring himself to think about just yet. Not...just...yet. Just...just a little more time. That's all he needed.

Face it, he told himself. You had plenty of opportunities to change things, but you lost control of this game from the very beginning.

Except it had ceased to be a game a long time ago.

Where had things gone so wrong?

From the moment Duo asked him if he'd ever driven an Enzo.

The Enzo Ferrari. Heero had heard about it from some of the car enthusiasts he'd worked with. The type of guys that actually discussed and debated it, like they'd had a snowball's chance in hell of ever laying eyes on one, let alone owning one.

It had been no wonder that Quatre had reacted with such unadulterated shock at seeing one. It was rare for anyone who owned a vehicle like that to simply drive it around the city. The thing cost a fortune, literally. Even the oil that went into the engine cost more than a dinner for two. For a single quart.

He'd known then that the driver could afford any price he quoted, but had still been surprised when Duo agreed to pay him fifty dollars just for a set of directions.

But that surprise was nothing compared to his reaction to Duo's offering to let him drive it. He'd been nearly floored, but something about wearing the wig made it easy to immerse himself in his role. He wasn't Heero Yuy, he was...a nameless, mysterious stranger, one who promised carnal delights, for a price.

Even the lack of a set of keys hanging from the ignition had done nothing to change his opinion of the driver, a man whose temper had been evident from the moment he'd practically insulted him for not knowing his way around Hollywood.

What had he thought was going to happen when Duo had let him into the car? A fast fuck in an alley? Duo hadn't seemed the type, although that wasn't to say that wealthy businessmen didn't have their kinks. Seemed that a lot of wives were rather skilled at withholding sex, and fucking the mouth of a male prostitute seemed to be a surprisingly popular means of retaliation.

Using sex as a weapon. How are you any different, Yuy?

No. It wasn't Heero Yuy who was the prostitute.

His inner voice laughed harshly, sounding an awful lot like Duo.

No? Run that by me again, because it sure as hell looks that way to me.

He buried his head in his hands. This is what he'd done to himself? How could he ever face his coworkers, or his parents, again? How could he face himself in the mirror every morning, for the rest of his life?

How could he face Duo?

~~~~~

Duo breathed easier once he'd walked out the lobby doors and onto Wilshire Boulevard. He'd waved distractedly at Howard, the manager of guest relations, in greeting as he walked past the man, but hadn't really registered his surroundings until he finally stopped and blinked at the passersby in the light of day.

It seemed almost surreal, to see that things outside the hotel were unaffected by what had transpired so far that day on the fourteenth floor. It felt like he was experiencing cultural shock, as if he'd just been plunked into a foreign country without any of the amenities he was used to.

He could have easily ordered everything he wanted to be delivered to his suite, but he just needed time away from Heero.

And, to be honest, he felt like it would be more personal, somehow, if he went out and did his shopping without anyone else being involved.

He just hoped Heero didn't laugh himself silly when he saw what Duo had planned. He was a little embarrassed by it, especially after Heero's had showered him with some rather intense attention. He couldn't picture Heero actually breaking into a fit of giggles, but he felt the back of his neck grow warm at the thought of earning Heero's ridicule, regardless of how that might be expressed.

He'd wanted to explore his sexuality, wanted a distraction. He'd wanted someone to keep him from being bored at various business functions. Somewhere along the way, he'd also wanted to figure out the puzzle that was Heero.

Heero had alternately assisted and thwarted him in his plans for the week, usually when he least expected it.

Today, however...today he wanted to explore the other side of a homosexual relationship. Was it more like a relationship with a woman, or more like a relationship with a good friend? Or somewhere in the middle? What the hell did gay couples do when they weren't fucking?

Damn it, though, Heero had made it almost impossible to follow through on what he was rapidly beginning to think was an incredibly foolish idea.

Don't rethink this strategy now, he told himself. If you try to overanalyze it, you'll defeat the purpose altogether. You've always trusted yourself, if no one else.

He squared his shoulders and hailed a cab.

It wouldn't be the first time he'd jumped in with both feet. He just wished he'd worn a lifejacket.

But...where would the fun be in that?

~~~~~

Heero was leaning against the back of the loveseat, berating himself for his current situation.

Stubborn, misguided idiot, part of him cried.

Wounded, desperate soul, another soothed. It sounded a lot like Quatre.

Hell. It wasn't enough that he'd screwed up his own life, he had to drag Quatre into his mess, too. He owed his roommate an apology. Quatre had offered him something that he hadn't deserved.

He couldn't help picturing the way Quatre seemed to maintain a sense of optimism, how he'd smile, genuinely smile, as he manipulated people to do his bidding.

He wondered what Quatre would think of Duo.

Then he wondered what Kitty would have thought of Duo.

He'd been so careful to follow all of Quatre's precautions. Latex gloves. Adequate lubrication. High quality, best rated for protection against STDs condoms.

He had taken Duo in his mouth more than once without applying a condom first. It wasn't as if there wasn't an exchange of bodily fluids when Duo's cock started dripping that clear, salty fluid. Heero closed his eyes, remembering the way it had tasted, and how Duo's weight had felt in his mouth, how the texture of the skin felt against his tongue, so very different than latex.

It wasn't so much the fact that he found sucking Duo off to be a turn-on in itself as much as it was the way Duo responded. There was something about that sense of power and sensuality, the knowledge that he was the one responsible for Duo's condition. It not only made him feel in control, it made him feel...downright sexy. It called to him, and he was helpless to resist feeling the satisfaction of knowing HE made Duo react that way. It was HIS mouth that drove Duo to a shuddering climax.

The first night he'd told Duo to prep him prior to Duo's initiation into male-male sex, he'd neglected one of his usual precautions. He'd allowed Duo to use his bare hands. Very few of Heero's clients liked being told to put the gloves on first, but as Quatre had told him, the idea of fucking Heero senseless was a powerful lure. If any of those men had tried to approach him with what they had in mind under any other circumstances, they'd have been very sorry.

That was one of the reasons it had seemed so perfect as a means of absolution. It was nothing he'd ever done before, nothing he'd ever conceived of doing.

When he asked Quatre how he dealt with 'it' - he'd meant with the pain. With the emptiness, the incredibly hollow feeling. The hole in his heart. He'd felt it when they kissed. No man had ever tried to come on to him before. Quatre had seen the need in his eyes and had responded with that brief touch of lips, and he'd known then how lonely Quatre had been.

It had felt...nice. He'd kissed precious few times. He'd been so busy with school, and pursuing his career, that the sum total of his sexual experience was the requisite fumbling attempts in college, the ones that were supposed to be horrible and embarrassing.

Sex was far easier than kissing. Quatre had been right about that, too. Kissing was much more intimate than a quick fuck. Girls seemed to expect the sex to be awkward. Virgins seemed more afraid of the pain, so if they were penetrated and didn't hurt, well, that was good enough for them. Of course, he'd only had sex with a virgin once, which was good for him because he didn't have to worry about suffering in comparison.

The lack of pain wasn't exactly good enough, not for any woman, because sex shouldn't involve pain. Unless you were using it as some sort of penance, he reminded himself, in which case it was necessary.

He shoved the thought away and returned to the memories of a younger, more innocent Heero. The one who had figured out that a girl's pleasure seemed to be centered more externally than internally, and had experimented to discover that he could bring them to orgasm with manual stimulation alone.

He'd considered attempting to try his hand, or more accurately, his mouth, at cunnilingus, but that was too much like kissing.

And he had apparently been a lousy kisser, from most accounts.

Simple kisses, like the one he'd shared with Quatre, were no problem. A simple brush of lips, even when the lips under his parted slightly, was easy.

It was when he'd first attempted to slip his tongue in a girl's mouth that he realized that there was a technique to it, and that he hadn't mastered it.

He could still remember the way the girl had pulled away from his questing tongue and wiped off her mouth. The expression on her face suggested she'd tasted something bad, and he'd panicked for a moment, thinking he'd forgotten to brush his teeth or something.

He wasn't sure if he'd been too eager, or if she had been the type of girl who just hadn't welcomed a 'French kiss,' at least not until he saw her enthusiastically swapping spit with one of the guys from his Visual Basic class.

He'd heard some of the other students in his dorm comparing their girlfriends' talents, from the way they kissed to how enthusiastic they were in bed to whether they spit or swallowed. Of course the last one was met with disbelief for the few who claimed their girlfriends 'loved the taste.'

One of the guys confessed to kissing his girlfriend right afterwards, which was met by a round of groans and gagging noises. In a desperate attempt to distract them from that particular bit of shared information, he'd added that his girlfriend wouldn't 'go down on him' unless he chugged a bottle of soda about an hour beforehand, insisting it made him taste sweeter.

Heero had learned far more about fellatio than he'd wanted that night, not that any girl he'd been involved with had ever seemed so inclined as to grant him that favor.

Duo had enveloped his cock with that warm, wet heat the very first night, though. Why?

And he hadn't expected Heero to apply a condom first. He'd seemed impatient when Heero had stopped him to take care of that. Heero knew that latex wasn't particularly pleasant tasting, but it was always safest to take proper precautions before engaging in sexual activities. The so-called flavored condoms were for novelty purposes only and did little to protect against sexually transmitted diseases.

Heero wasn't being immodest when he acknowledged that he had quickly developed a knack for 'giving head.' Many times he'd felt the swelling of the latex in his mouth as the cock he was working exploded, and had welcomed it, knowing that, after orgasm, his client wouldn't expect to spend any more time with him. Oral sex was the biggest seller, which was how Quatre managed to continue working once he'd stopped having intercourse with his johns.

He wouldn't have realized that Quatre had changed his repertoire if Trowa hadn't pointed it out. They'd been watching the blond man weave his spell on another unsuspecting soon-to-be client. Heero had figured it was just good business, as most men couldn't get their wives or girlfriends to put their mouths 'there.'

Sex sells, he thought dryly. No wonder Nevada had legalized it. It was something that would never suffer a lack of demand. What a way to stimulate the economy.

He'd sold sex to Duo, too, but so much more than that. What the hell had he been thinking to accept the proposition that had been posed to him? For that matter, what had he been thinking, to spend the night with the man?

Then again, if he hadn't, he wouldn't have seen that picture, and he wouldn't have started to think about putting his life back together.

So was he sorry that he'd said yes?

He wasn't sure which was worse, spending time alone, lost in his thoughts and self-recrimination, or spending time with Duo, still lost, but in a completely different way?

As if his thoughts called upon the man, a knock sounded at the door. Duo must have forgotten his keycard, because no one else would dare arrive at the penthouse suite without calling first, and the phone hadn't rung once since Duo had been gone.

He had the door halfway open before he realized he'd watched Duo pocket the keycard on his way out, but by then he was staring right into the inky black eyes of Wufei Chang.

tbc

~~~~~

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lapsus linguae - a slip of the tongue

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lapsus memoriae - a slip of the memory

~~~~~

I know I haven't responded to many of your reviews lately, but I've been a busy little beaver with writing!

So let me back up to chapter 26 or thereabouts...

ozzypoos - thanks for giving the fic a chance. I'm glad you didn't feel you wasted your time in reading it! I am sure that the basic premise doesn't quite describe what the fic has become at this point, so it's always nice to know that more people are giving in and checking it out.

Bane's Desire - thank you so very much! When I decided to accept the fic challenge, the two things that piqued my interest were the fact that the challenge put Heero in the role of the prostitute, which is rather unusual. The second thing was thinking about what would possibly drive Heero to put himself in that position, and from there...what I thought was going to be a simple multi-part started to reach epic proportions, as I brought in each character. I wanted to use PW as a skeleton and then figure out how to take the plot and make it mine, so it's like...playing freeze tag. Now and then something from PW will tap the plot on the shoulder, but otherwise I had no desire to simply take the movie, change the names, and post it. Where is the originality in that? You've either seen the movie or you haven't! It has been a LOT of fun, letting the characters take the story in directions I hadn't foreseen in the beginning. It is a very big compliment to hear someone recognize that I've wreaked havoc with the script!

Kanon - thanks for letting me know you see an uke-Heero and a seme-Quatre as believable in the context of this fic. I know that the idea of a 2x1 is absolutely abhorrent to some readers, so knowing that I've managed to make it not only palatable, but credible, is fine praise indeed.

CuriousDreamWeaver - thanks for taking the time to review each chapter. I know it's difficult to keep up with me when the muse is cracking the whip. It's been interesting to see that Quatre has gained a bit of a fan club as the fic has progressed! How have I been pumping out the chapters so fast? I don't have a job! That and I get an idea in my head for the next scene, and then I sit down to write it, and pretty soon an entire chapter appears on the screen. Sometimes I'll write scenes that have no place in the fic...yet...and that often helps me create the rest of the story around those scenes. I also have an outline for the progression of the story that I follow, although I've deviated from it a few times already, which keeps things straight in my head, for the most part!

OxBeachFlirtxO1 - aww, I'm blushing. I am always pleased as punch to hear that the characters come across as in depth. One of the elements I tend to love most in my fave fics is good character development and interaction, so I have tried to infuse them with real personalities. I think I will never look at the movie Pretty Woman the same way again after this!

Shininobaka - wow. I'm speechless! A masterpiece and a tearjerker all in one? Thank you, I could hug you for a week!

Lainy the Daft - I'm glad you liked the flashback of Quatre and Heero's first meeting. It was one of those scenes I could see clearly in my head as I wrote it. Ah, Wufei is cute when he's noble? I'll be Meiran would agree, much to his (exaggerated) annoyance. He's one of the characters that I am most nervous writing, although now that his personality is more defined, it has been a lot easier. As for your other comments...time will tell!

Sanaaki - ah, the broken pencils theme...I'm glad it seems cohesive, because sometimes my mind tends to work in little random spurts, making leaps of logic that would make Kitty proud. I am tickled pink that you are hooked on the story. I still find myself amazed at what this fic has become. Who knew, when I accepted a simple challenge to "do GW, Pretty Woman style"? PS - it was nice seeing an update to Secretly Loving You. Every now and then I need to take a break from the writing end of things and just sit back and read instead!

Lana - glad to know everyone is still with me! Sometimes I'm not even with me! ;)

Dark Peppermint - well, I hope I've not been responsible for your death yet. This is the third chapter since you expressed a desire for more!

holly - I think I've covered most of your questions via e-mail, and I love the way your mind works, whether you hit the nail on the head or not. Sometimes you find things that I wasn't even aware I included, and then I'll go back and say, "well what do you know?" A lot will be taking place, as you might guess, over the course of the next few chapters, so hopefully things will be answered...all in good time, of course! Of course I never mind your long reviews...they tend to be the ones that really help me focus on what I'm doing right and rethink how I might want to present the next answer to one of the unanswered questions.

Thanks, everyone, for all your kind words and your encouragement. Fanfiction . net has been refusing to let me log in, but if you're reading this, then you know I succeeded. Hopefully the wait for chapter 41 won't be too long, but I make no promises!


	41. Exitus Acta Probat

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The Edulcoration of Duo Maxwell - 41/?

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Warnings: AU, yaoi, coarse language, violence, angst, cliffhangers, red herrings, mention of various vices, random bits of useless knowledge, occasionally explicit sex.

Spoilers: None for GW, and I'm now quite convinced almost nada for Pretty Woman.

Disclaimer: I don't really need to be Captain Obvious here, do I? No ownership, no money being made, yadda yadda. Written for fun, not profit.

Archived at: (verb) - To free from harshness (as of attitude); to soften

~~~~~

****

Chapter 41 - Exitus Acta Probat

Wufei looked into Heero's eyes, watching them narrow. His first thought was how Heero had some nerve, looking at him like he was some sort of unwelcome intruder. His second thought was that Heero's eyes were supposed to be brown.

First his hair, now his eyes. He hadn't failed to notice the stark difference in hair color and style between Wednesday when he'd punched the man and Thursday night at the gallery. What the hell had Duo gotten himself involved in?

"Duo isn't here," Heero said tightly, his body effectively blocking the space between the partly open door and the rest of the suite behind him.

Wufei glanced at the tension in Heero's arm, from his shoulder to his thumb where it was tightly gripping the edge of the door. He recognized the signs as being vastly similar to someone preparing to launch a bodily assault, and it angered him.

"Mind telling me where he is?"

"I don't have that information."

Heero hadn't blinked once, and his jaw was tightly clenched.

"In that case, do you mind if I come in and wait for him?"

Hell yes, Heero thought. I mind very much, thank you.

Heero stared at him for half a minute, then stepped back. His eyes didn't leave Wufei for a second as the Chinese man entered the suite. Heero shut the door behind him, still keeping his gaze riveted on Wufei, and crossed his arms, left over right. He leaned against the door in what might have been a relaxed manner, except that his entire frame was practically quivering with repressed energy.

Wufei took the opportunity to study Heero in return. He was casually dressed, his shirt revealing a long neck and a hint of shoulders. Wufei supposed most women would find him rather attractive. Heero's left hand was tucked under his right arm, and his right hand gripped the biceps of the opposite arm tightly.

Heero had rather impressive musculature, nothing like one would see on a professional bodybuilder, but the muscles were tight and compact. The edge of a faint scar that ran from the front of Heero's arm to his triceps was visible right above the fingers of Heero's right hand.

A slight indentation was barely visible on Heero's middle finger between the first and second knuckles. He might have missed it if not for the tension in those fingers, fingers that were long and slim. The nails were short and the cuticles neatly trimmed, but they were by no means the hands of a professional courtesan. Wufei suspected that it would be a rare streetwalker, indeed, whose body was soft and pampered, the very things, he imagined, a kept woman might endeavor to achieve.

His thoughts briefly wandered to the man he'd attempted to defend the previous night, the one who had seemed more angered than afraid, despite features that could almost be considered delicate. They probably would have been, had the blond been a woman.

Wufei suspected that he'd been going through life with blinders on, making assumptions based on little factual evidence. He knew that wasn't true, not entirely, but it gave him renewed admiration for his wife's ability to look at things from all angles before forming an opinion.

"Do you know when he'll be back?" he asked Heero, doing his best to appear nonchalant and disinterested in the man he was studying intently.

"You're his partner," Heero said quietly. "You'd be in a better position to know his comings and goings than I."

"Yes, but..."

But what, Wufei? But Duo had seemed single minded of purpose all week, with a few thoughts spared for the situation with Peacecraft? He felt a scowl form on his face, and he didn't like that Heero had been the one to put it there.

Just like Treize had been the one to ruin your career, right?

He wondered if other people had these annoying internal voices, and what they did to get them to shut up. It was no wonder so many gave in to the temptation to drink themselves into oblivion.

Ah. He seized that idea.

"Would you mind if I helped myself to something to drink?"

Heero's posture didn't relax, but he finally pushed himself away from the door.

"I am sure Duo would have no problem with your availing yourself to the amenities made available by the hotel."

Wufei wasn't sure if that was supposed to be a slur of sorts, against him, or against Duo; or if it was simply a statement that carried no more weight than what it seemed to be. 

"You're probably right," he agreed, then let his own body relax a bit. If he wanted to get anywhere, he couldn't let his body language make Heero skittish. Offering the man something to drink was a small but very important first step.

It would have been nice to see Duo and Heero together, but he wasn't foolish enough to believe that their interaction would be genuine in front of an audience. Still, he was here for a reason, and Duo's presence might have been more of a detriment than anything else. He threw his jacket over the back of one of the chairs surrounding a nearby table as he walked to the mini-bar.

"Would you like something?" Wufei asked, pouring himself a bottle of the first thing his fingers touched. He didn't even bother looking at the label.

Heero's eyes narrowed again, indicating he had noticed Wufei's random selection, but he said nothing. Wufei quickly browsed the bar's other offerings and decided that a bottle of water would be innocuous enough. He set it on the surface of the bar, then picked up his own drink and walked away, leaving plenty of distance between them.

Heero seemed to consider the wisdom of accepting the water, so Wufei was relieved to see him walk over and pick up the Evian. He gripped the bottle just above the label and untwisted the cap. When he took his first sip, Wufei noticed that Heero managed to keep his eyes on him the whole time.

~~~~~

Milliardo Peacecraft sat in the back of the taxicab and contemplated what Treize had told him.

There had been a point to all that, somewhere, but he wondered if he'd have the time or the patience to figure it out.

Part of him wondered how much he should tell Relena. She was going to be graduating soon, and she had been exerting her independence more and more lately.

He hadn't been pleased at all with what she'd told him, although how much of that was due to where she'd gotten her information, he wasn't sure.

At least he'd gleaned more than he'd hoped from Treize. He was very close to making a decision.

He decided he would not ask Relena her opinion. She had to trust him on this.

It was very important to him that she do so.

~~~~~

It was ridiculous, Wufei mused, the way he and Heero were circling each other like combatants in a fight, figuratively speaking. Heero's gaze was unnerving, and not much made Wufei uncomfortable.

He still was a bit riled about Heero's comment that Meiran was paying him for services rendered, but he hadn't really believed it, not just because he knew she'd do no such thing, but neither had he fully processed the reality of Heero's job.

What drove someone to sell himself like a common whore? For that matter, what had possessed Duo to actually be the one to buy what was being offered?

Heero picked up the bottle and took another sip, his grip causing the water level to rise in the bottle before he tipped it to his mouth. Wufei was suddenly glad he had chosen the Evian and not the Perrier, which would have meant giving Heero a glass bottle. The thought of a weapon in the hands of this mysterious stranger, and a stranger he was, was unpleasant.

Turning his back on Heero was more difficult. He walked over to Duo's laptop, and his brow crinkled in confusion when he saw the map of Beverly Hills displayed on the screen. Where the hell had his partner gone?

Heero had made it clear that he wasn't going to answer Wufei's questions willingly. Did Heero know where Duo had gone, or was he simply withholding information because of the less-than-favorable first impression Wufei had made?

He didn't care what Heero thought of him. He'd do it again if the man dared level any more insults toward Meiran.

He was a bit resentful that Meiran seemed rather fond of Heero. He hadn't cared for the way she laughed softly when she spoke to him at the gallery. He still found it hard to accept that she seemed very close to Duo at times, although he'd gotten much better at keeping his cool when they flirted with each other.

Her ease in speaking with Heero, however, went beyond anything he'd ever encountered in his life.

Who the hell was Heero, anyway?

That was the real reason he'd come here.

"Duo has been a bit distracted this week," he commented, puzzling over the way Heero's eyes narrowed. Apparently Heero assumed that was a slight directed his way. Perhaps it had been.

If he wanted a response from Heero, he was going to need to draw him out a bit more.

"He has not spent much time focusing on our current negotiations," he added. "I can only assume that your...acquaintance...has something to do with that."

"You're his partner," Heero replied. "What have YOU been doing all week?"

The man certainly had bite, as well as a point, Wufei grudgingly admitted.

"What I do is none of your business," he said coldly, determined to keep the upper hand.

"Perhaps Duo feels the same way," Heero replied in that same calm, emotionless voice.

Wufei bristled at that remark. Duo had always seemed so open and forthcoming, but this week he realized how much of that had been an act. Meiran had seen it long ago, but he'd just always accepted Duo at face value. That was exactly what he'd done wrong when he went into law, and he was tired of making the same mistakes over and over again.

He hated letting his temper get the best of him, but damn it, his motives were pure of heart, just as they were when he'd nearly let a guilty man walk the streets a free man. And he had Treize Khushrenada to thank for insuring that hadn't happened.

"I have known Duo Maxwell a good number of years," Wufei exaggerated slightly. "And I don't like seeing him taken in by a confidence man."

Heero's jaw clenched, but he did nothing in response other than drain the rest of his water in one gulp.

He would not let Wufei Chang get to him. He'd seen people like him in action before. They did their damnedest to wear you down, attacking from every conceivable angle, and one of the best defenses was to pretend you didn't notice. Being underestimated by one's opponent was a keen advantage.

He'd provoked Wufei by taking a cheap shot at Meiran, but she wasn't here right now. Neither was Duo. This was some kind of standoff. All that was missing were a few tumbleweeds blowing across the floor of the suite.

Part of him wanted Duo to come back and do something about the air in the room, which was thick with tension. Another part of him wanted to settle things with Chang himself. And a third part simply didn't think it was worth the effort. He didn't need to devote energy to something that wouldn't matter in less than twenty-four hours.

Wufei's aggressive stance had every one of his senses on full alert, despite the fact that he knew this was only a challenge being presented to his dignity, something he wasn't going to reclaim for another day or two.

He would not allow himself to let his two lives merge right now. He was still working on resolving the present without worrying about his past and his future.

He walked over to the table and set the empty bottle down. Chang was still visible out of the corner of his eye.

Wufei didn't care for Heero's dismissive attitude one bit. Did nothing he say break through that cool exterior? What was the man like when he was alone with Duo? He felt a sense of panic, feeling he had to do something to force Heero to show his true colors. For Duo's sake.

He approached Heero quickly, from behind, and realized his mistake a split second too late.

~~~~~

Duo sat in the back of the cab, looking at the items he'd purchased, and shook his head. It had seemed like such a good idea this morning.

He hoped Heero wouldn't think he was being ridiculous. He very well might be just that, giving thought to spending any part of the day with the contents of the bags next to him. Just a few blocks away, he had an incredibly gorgeous man with remarkably talented hands and lips, eager to do his bidding when it came to matters of the flesh.

He hadn't had to do any bidding lately, it seemed. It was as though Heero suddenly craved his touch, sought it out. What game was he playing?

He glanced at the bags again and smiled sheepishly, even though there was no one to witness it.

Games, indeed. 

~~~~~

Heero's reaction was instantaneous. One second Wufei was preparing to grab him by the shoulders and demand some real answers, and in the next, Heero had him slammed face down on the table so fast it nearly made his head spin. His left cheekbone was most certainly going to display some rather interesting colors later. He blinked at the empty water bottle as Heero wrenched his right arm behind him, shoving his hand as far up his back as he could.

Wufei's right biceps were being stretched past their limit, his shoulder felt close to dislocating, and he honestly thought Heero was going to break his wrist.

Heero straddled one of his legs and pressed his weight against Wufei, in what he vaguely registered as a parody of whatever Heero and Duo might have been doing all week.

Heero's lips were very close to his ear, and Wufei felt a momentary sense of panic.

"If you think Duo Maxwell needs your protection," Heero hissed in his ear. "Then you don't know him as well as you think you do."

With that, the weight and the tight grip on his wrist were gone.

Wufei rubbed his upper arm to get feeling back into it, and couldn't help feeling almost ashamed at how he'd managed to have someone get the jump on him not once, but twice. First it was the bartender last night, now it was this...whatever the hell Heero was.

Dangerous, his mind supplied helpfully.

Heero's entire body was taut, as if poised for a fight, but Wufei resisted the impulse to try decking him. He'd gotten away with doing that once, and this time he knew that Heero wouldn't simply walk away, if he'd even be lucky enough for his fist to connect with any part of Heero's body. From what he'd just found out the hard way, even if he entered into a fight fully prepared for a counterattack, Heero was no pushover. Who knew what other secrets the man was hiding?

He was sure Duo didn't.

The sound of the door opening alerted them both to Duo's presence, and Wufei saw Heero's eyes immediately flick toward the door for a split second, even though the rest of his body remained turned toward Wufei. Once Duo joined them, he noticed that Heero's body seemed to be at ease, as if given the directive to do so from a commanding officer.

Duo looked from one to the other curiously.

"Did I miss anything?" he asked. He was asking either one of them, but his eyes were on Heero.

Heero didn't answer, so Duo turned his gaze back to Wufei.

"I wanted to make sure you were still planning on remaining available in case Peacecraft calls this weekend."

Duo grinned at him. "And you came all this way to tell me in person? What's wrong with your phone, Wufei?"

Wufei was sure he was close to blushing. "Not a thing. You didn't leave a message when you called. I was concerned."

Everything he said was true, even though perhaps not in the way that Duo would assume. He had actually only guessed that Duo had phoned him earlier in the day, as it was Duo's habit to call at the most inappropriate times, and the expression on his partner's face let him know he'd been accurate in that, if nothing else.

"Tell you what," Duo said. "I'll keep mine on if you keep yours on." Then he actually winked.

Wufei couldn't help glancing at Heero to see if the other man caught the innuendo, but he didn't really expect to see anything other than a completely blank expression. He leaned over the table and grabbed his jacket from the opposite chair instead of walking around it, causing Duo to look at him oddly.

"Heero," Wufei said in parting, not willing to give more than that, but also not wanting Duo to know what had transpired.

Heero nodded curtly, and Duo chuckled. "He's warming up to you, Wufei."

"Keep your phone on," was all Wufei said in response.

Duo walked over to the desk, brandished the cell phone, and showed Wufei the lit up screen.

Wufei put his jacket on and reached into an inner pocket and turned on his cell phone before pulling it out and showing it Duo. That earned another impish grin.

"I have a feeling that things won't turn out quite the way we expect them to," Duo commented as he walked Wufei to the door. "But perhaps that's not a bad thing."

"Perhaps not," Wufei agreed, wondering how much he agreed with that statement.

Once Duo had shut the door behind him, Wufei walked to the elevator. He spared one glance at the door to check that Duo hadn't poked his head out with any last parting comments. He reached into his inner pocket again and pulled out a clear plastic Ziploc bag. Then he reached into his left side pocket and pulled out an empty water bottle, carefully holding it by the bottom only. It had been a close thing, but fortunately Duo hadn't seemed to notice the rather conspicuous bulge. He could only pray that Heero hadn't noticed, either.

He dropped the bottle into the plastic bag and sealed it shut.

He'd gotten what he came for.

tbc

~~~~~

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exitus acta probat - the outcome justifies the deed

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Kary-Asakura - I'm glad you followed the story from Atsui.org to here! It's immensely flattering to know that someone actively sought out updates elsewhere. As far as the Heero-Kitty conversation, all I can say is that there was a lot of symbolism, and that there are one or two things that may become clear later on. If you find that it's really got you stumped, feel free to e-mail me and I'll see what I can do. Who knows, perhaps it's something that was supposed to be pretty obvious, and it might help me in my writing.

CuriousDreamWeaver - ah, I haven't forgotten about Quatre, never fear! I hope you enjoyed the Heero-Wufei interaction in this chapter. I was very excited to get to this point.

Kanon - Heero and Quatre have what I'd call a rather interesting relationship! Glad you liked the chapter - and the cliffhanger! Couldn't you just hear the music in the background right before it went to a commercial?

Youkai Girl - I'm really glad you decided to give the story a chance. It has become a lot more than I'd expected, and I honestly thought that many people would find the very idea of a Pretty Woman-Gundam Wing fusion was simply not worth even attempting to read. I'm tickled pink that you actually went and read the latest chapter at work! I hope the Heero-Wufei confrontation was enjoyable!

Mara202 - another reader tracks me down from Atsui! I'm so glad you're enjoying it. It has been a lot of fun to write. And to think, originally I balked at the idea of posting it to ff.net! Hang in there, I still have quite a few unresolved issues to address!


	42. Pacta Sunt Servanda

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The Edulcoration of Duo Maxwell - 42/?

Warnings: AU, yaoi, coarse language, violence, angst, cliffhangers, red herrings, mention of various vices, random bits of useless knowledge, nonexplicit male/male sex.

Spoilers: None for GW, and I'm now quite convinced almost nada for Pretty Woman.

Disclaimer: I don't really need to be Captain Obvious here, do I? No ownership, no money being made, yadda yadda. Written for fun, not profit.

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Edulcorate (verb) - To free from harshness (as of attitude); to soften

* * *

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Chapter 42 - Pacta Sunt Servanda

Quatre's eyes blinked open and he was in a state of near panic at the unfamiliar surroundings, until he remembered he was in Heero's room.

The idea that Heero's bedroom was foreign to him caused resentment to well up once again. He'd had sex with the man, and yet had never set foot in his room until this morning.

His mouth felt like he'd eaten a dead porcupine. He ran a hand over his dry lips and sat up, wincing at the wave of dizziness that threatened to overpower him. How much time had gone by?

He didn't realize he'd passed out holding the bottle until it rolled out of his lax fingers and hit the floor. Instead of shattering, he heard it roll under the bed.

Thank goodness for small favors. The idea of cleaning broken glass shards in his current condition wasn't very appealing.

He slid off the bed like a jellyfish and then rolled onto his stomach, reaching under the bed for the bottle. His eyes wouldn't focus, and he smacked his hands on the floorboards uselessly a few times, feeling one of them jump under his hand, before his fingertips touched the neck of the bottle.

He stuck one finger into that small opening and pulled the bottle to him that way. He withdrew the digit and sucked on it to remove the sticky bourbon residue, then stuck out his tongue in distaste.

That was certainly productive. Now what?

A shower, perhaps, would be a good place to start.

* * *

Heero had never been so relieved to see Duo as he was after he'd reacted to Chang's sneaking up on him. Only the fact that he'd belatedly realized he was in no real danger had kept him from doing anything that might give Wufei any fodder for speculation regarding his past - before he became a prostitute.

He felt like Kitty must have after her first day of school. Of course, back then she'd still been Esperanza and he'd just earned the nickname 'Niisan.

He'd been attending Osaka International School the year that she started Pre-K at Hamilton Terrace, but she'd told him about that day...after she'd berated him thoroughly for leaving in the first place, as if it had been his idea.

She'd explained, in her disjointed, random-changing-of-topics manner, how she'd felt when she saw her mother waiting for her outside the school. After she'd filled him in on everything from her new favorite ice cream flavor - "chocolate brownie fudge now, NOT butter pecan" - to her frustration at trying to tie her shoelaces to her new classmates and the first time she ever saw a turtle, Heero had understood perfectly. She'd known deep down she hadn't been abandoned, but it didn't compare to the reassurance that was the sight of a familiar and beloved face at the end of that half-day session.

It had to be the same irrational sense of comfort he felt as soon as Duo had walked over and stopped, standing as a barrier between his lover and his partner.

His lover, Heero? Is that what you are to him?

He wanted to rip Duo's shirt off him, fasten his mouth to Duo's neck, run his hands along his sides and into his jeans, just to prove to that infernal voice that he was all that and more. He contented himself with knowing that Duo was there, and that Wufei was gone.

You still have the card with that shrink's name on it, don't you, Yuy? You're going to need it.

"Heero?"

He looked straight into Duo's eyes, and saw a hint of concern there.

"Wufei didn't...try anything, did he?" His thumb gently stroked the corner of Heero's lip where his teeth had cut into it after Wufei had punched him three days ago.

Heero's stomach fluttered. "He was worried about you," he said, his voice amazingly calm.

Duo snorted, his gentle touch a thing of the past. Heero found he missed it. "More like worried that I was slacking off, or doing something stupid."

Like getting involved with me, Heero thought. Duo...Duo, you need to tell me to leave. You need to break this contract. Get out while you can. While I can still let you.

'Let's just say that since I have the day off, you do, too,' his mind echoed Duo's words from earlier.

Do I, Duo? Is this really a day off? Am I here, not because you expect me to drop my pants and bend over, but because...

He refused to even entertain the thought. Perhaps tomorrow, he'd be able to reflect on this more clearly, but he didn't dare read more into what was going on than what he was comfortable with at the moment.

Which reminded him again of how the tension in his body had dissipated when Duo had interrupted the clash of wills he'd had with Wufei Chang.

This time he gave into the impulse. Duo's eyes widened as he walked over to him and slid his hands up Duo's chest and to his shoulders. He unfastened the buttons, his eyes never leaving Duo's, until the shirt was open all the way from top to bottom. His left hand stayed in contact with Duo's skin, skimming the flesh from Duo's right shoulder to his left, as he moved behind him. Once Duo's back was firmly against his chest, he lowered his arm and slid it around Duo's waist. With his free hand, he picked up Duo's braid and draped it gently over Duo's right shoulder, then he pressed his lips against the nape of Duo's neck.

Duo's body trembled in response, and Heero ground his pelvis against Duo's backside, letting him feel the erection that those minute tremors had awakened.

Duo closed his eyes and leaned his head back against Heero's shoulder, exposing his throat.

This wasn't part of my plans for the day, he thought hazily, but he did nothing to stop the tongue that was caressing the juncture between his neck and shoulder.

* * *

Quatre closed his eyes as the lukewarm water beat down on his face. What he wouldn't give for a hot shower for once.

For once, there was no sarcastic voice to remind him that he could have stayed at home and enjoyed a few luxuries besides hot water. He washed his face before turning his back to the tepid stream.

He was feeling adrift, more so than his situation had ever made him feel before. It was as if things were fast spinning out of control, and he was starting to doubt that anything had ever been within his control in the first place.

He'd known when he'd encouraged Heero to approach the driver of the Ferrari that major changes were on the horizon, but he had a feeling that he was only seeing the tip of the iceberg.

He needed to see Heero.

He was in no condition to go to upscale Beverly Hills and waltz into the hotel lobby like he belonged there. He had no doubt he could pull it off, but not when he was three sheets to the wind. Apparently not all that much time had passed since he'd downed the bottle of Bulleit.

Staying alone in the apartment was out of the question. He didn't mind nursing a hangover, welcomed it, in fact, but he knew that sitting there brooding would make him sick, physically and emotionally.

He lathered up a threadbare washcloth and scrubbed at his chest and under his arms, feeling a tiny bit more human. He was still a bit unsteady on his feet, and sure as hell a far cry from sober.

Most household injuries are caused by falls, he thought. So yeah, being covered in lather and standing on wet shower tile is not one of my ten best ideas yet this year.

The washcloth dipped lower, and suddenly he was hit with a surge of lust so powerful he almost became another statistic. He managed to remain on his feet, but he dropped the washcloth.

Quatre hadn't done this in a while, and he'd forgotten how good it could feel. He pictured Heero on his knees in front of him and moaned.

It had never happened in reality, but damn it, this was his erotic fantasy, and he was going to enjoy it.

He closed his eyes, almost clearly seeing Heero's fingers lovingly caress him. His breath quickened.

Those impossibly long brown bangs, tickling his stomach, and at the last moment, he could envision those eyes looking up at him, those incredibly expressive eyes...eyes so blue...as blue as...

Those eyes reminded him of the way the blades of grass on the front lawn of the Winner family's modest estate looked after a summer rain shower.

He didn't realize he'd shouted out nothing more than two syllables as he came, so lost in the fantasy was he, but afterwards he bowed his head and stared at the spray hitting the tile floor.

The water ran cold by the time he'd gathered his wits enough to turn off the faucets, and he toweled himself off briskly. He walked to his bedroom and started pulling things out of his dresser, throwing each on the bed as he decided against every article of clothing he touched.

He finally settled on a pair of slim jeans, but not the low rise ones he normally wore. A well-worn pale blue oxford provided a bit of contrast to the dark colored denim. He swore as one of the shoelaces on his boots snapped, but he took care of that by pulling the lace out of the top two sets of eyelets.

He was most definitely NOT staying alone in the apartment. Not another minute.

* * *

Duo had not wanted this. He hadn't. Had not wanted to feel Heero's arousal pressed against him, had not wanted to feel the rush of cool air as his own sprang free of his jeans thanks to Heero's nimble fingers. Had not wanted Heero to repeat what he'd done on the balcony, attacking him like a starving man...

Except this time...

Duo tightened the grip he had on the other man's shoulder.

You're a liar, Duo Maxwell, if you think you're fooling anyone with your denial.

I want it, he thought. Fuck, yeah, I want it. But I'd also wanted...

Can't you have both?

Oh, God, please, yes. Yes! The last part was said out loud.

Heero's lips formed Duo's name, muffled though it was, and his larynx vibrated with the sound.

That was enough to send Duo over the edge.

That, and the knowledge that Heero had never produced one of the ubiquitous condoms.

* * *

Wufei paid the cab driver before getting out in front of the police station on West Martin Luther King Jr. Boulevard.

He'd called one of his contacts back east, one Sid Bishop. He'd spoken to Bishop on many occasions while investigating some of the criminal cases he'd accepted before the case that had changed his life. After the obligatory chitchat and a completely evasive handling of the question 'what have you been doing with yourself since I last saw you,' he got to the reason for his phone call.

Fortunately he'd made a positive and, apparently, long-lasting, impression on the young detective. He couldn't believe his luck when the man had offered to see if an old college chum of his was still working for the LAPD, and he promised Wufei he'd call him back either way.

Wufei had waited in one of the bars at the hotel until his cell phone rang a few minutes later. Not only was Darryl Montague still a proud officer of the law employed by the Los Angeles Police Department, he was also coincidentally on weekend duty, and he was willing to run the prints for Wufei. Confidentiality would be assured, of course, as everyone involved assumed Wufei was working on proving a client's innocence. Wufei had allowed Bishop to jump to the conclusion that he was now practicing law in LA, thankful that he hadn't had to lie in order to get the assistance he needed.

Oh, well, as long as you aren't lying, then everything else is quite all right, his conscience nagged him.

That's right, he insisted. The empty bottle would only have ended up in the garbage, so it wasn't like he'd stolen something from Heero, and trying to get any amount of information from that man was pointless. Assuming he WOULD believe a single word from those tightly compressed lips, he hadn't been able to get Heero to volunteer even a simple thing like how long Duo had been gone, so it was a moot point.

He didn't trust someone who seemed like he was hiding a lot more than he revealed, and therefore he would do anything he could to insure that his partner wasn't making the biggest mistake of his life.

Meiran's words niggled at his consciousness. 'Don't do anything stupid.'

It's not stupid. I'm not being stupid. It's the right thing to do. Duo would agree with me, if he weren't so blinded by...

By what? Lust? Something else? Something far more dangerous?

'Did you know that Hilde accused Duo of being gay?'

No. Why would I? How the hell did YOU know that, Meiran? Did Duo tell you?

'You're worried about him.'

He'd wanted to disagree with Meiran on that, too, but he supposed when it came down to it, he did care for Duo Maxwell as a bit more than a business partner. He never would have used the word 'friend' to describe their relationship, but why else would he do the things he was doing right now?

Don't be upset with me, Meiran. My heart is in the right place. It always has been, and I know that you know it.

He climbed the steps to the police station and opened the door.

* * *

Heero wrapped his arms around Duo's thighs and rested the side of his head against his stomach. That hadn't been all that bad.

Despite their awkward position, Duo was leaning forward, allowing much of his weight to be supported by Heero. He felt a bit of satisfaction, knowing he was responsible for Duo's sudden loss of balance.

__

Quid pro quo, Duo. I've been off balance since I met you.

He had actually come very close to climax himself, and would have soiled the front of his jeans without shame. Duo's reactions were like an aphrodisiac. He was still sporting a raging hard on, but he didn't want to let go of Duo's legs.

Then Duo cleared his throat, and Heero felt his face flame. His erection flagged, and he gladly let his arousal fade away. This wasn't about him. Not today.

Duo seemed to have other ideas, because as soon as Heero stood up, Duo yanked up the jeans and fastened them with shaky fingers.

"I, ah, hadn't expected that," he said. "Not that I'm complaining, mind you."

His words caused a ridiculous feeling of warmth right in the pit of Heero's stomach.

"So I suppose maybe I wasted my time today," he said, putting a hand to the back of his neck. "I mean, it's a stupid idea anyway."

Heero knew Duo had put a lot of thought into whatever it was that he was afraid to tell him. "What's your idea, Duo?"

Duo looked downright embarrassed, but he gestured to a couple of shopping bags that he'd set on the table that Wufei had practically imprinted with his face earlier.

"I haven't had many real 'days off' myself," Duo said. "And I just thought...I kinda wanted..."

He was clearly trying to find a way to explain himself, so Heero took matters into his own hands and walked over to Duo's purchases, removing the items from the bags one by one and placing them on the table. For a moment, something seemed a bit out of place, but he chalked that observation up to Duo's uncharacteristic nervousness.

He raised one eyebrow in question as he set each object down. An unabridged dictionary. A jigsaw puzzle. Two decks of playing cards. Scrabble. A wireless network adapter. A DVD featuring a much-hyped action movie that Heero vaguely remembered seeing advertised in theaters just a few months ago. A six-pack of Budweiser. A bag of Fritos. And a now half-melted pint of chocolate ice cream.

"Yeah," Duo said, raising his hands in a gesture of helplessness. "I guess I wanted to try living the simple life today."

Heero couldn't help it, even if he'd wanted to. The corners of his lips curved up slightly.

"OK," he said.

Duo's wide smile in response assured him he'd made the right decision.

And he realized he'd been lying to himself. His actions so far today hadn't just been for Duo.

But he was glad he'd done them anyway.

tbc

* * *

pacta sunt servanda - agreements must be kept


	43. Tangled Webs

****

The Edulcoration of Duo Maxwell - 43/?

~~~~~~~

Warnings: AU, yaoi, coarse language, violence, angst, cliffhangers, red herrings, mention of various vices, random bits of useless knowledge, occasionally explicit sex.

Spoilers: None for GW, and I'm now quite convinced almost nada for Pretty Woman.

Disclaimer: I don't really need to be Captain Obvious here, do I? No ownership, no money being made, yadda yadda. Written for fun, not profit. Don't own Scrabble, neither! (Yes, I know, double negative. I still don't own it. Unless you count the board game I bought earlier today just to...well, you'll see.)

Archived at:   
http : // www . atsui . org  
http : // www.gundam-wing-diaries . 150m . com / gw / Mookie / gwmookie . htm

__

Edulcorate (verb) - To free from harshness (as of attitude); to soften

~~~~~

****

Chapter 43 - Tangled Webs

"I'm here to see Darryl Montague," Wufei informed the uniformed officer behind the plate glass window.

"Do you have an appointment?"

"He's expecting me," Wufei replied. "My name is Wufei Chang."

The officer picked up a phone and spoke into it, then placed it on the receiver.

"I'll buzz you in," he said. "Wait until it starts buzzing, then open it before it stops. Once you're inside, go to the main desk and ask for Montague."

Just then, a vibrant young woman with curly auburn hair opened the door from the other side and waved to the officer behind the window.

"See ya, Chapman," she said.

"Where the hell are you going, Bloom? Aren't you on duty this weekend?"

"Hell, no," she said with an exaggerated shudder. "I only came in to relieve Manning for a few hours. I originally had the entire weekend off."

"You're welcome to come back here and let _me_ take the rest of the day off," Chapman grinned at her.

"Nice try, but I promised my brother I was going to stop by to see him tonight."

She noticed Wufei standing there. "Is he helping you?" she asked.

"Oh, sorry!" Chapman said. "I'll buzz you in."

Wufei nodded and gripped the seal of the plastic bag harder. He waited for the door to buzz, as he'd been instructed, then pulled open the heavy steel door and entered.

~~~~~

The first thing Duo and Heero did was played a few video games on the computer. At one point, using the wireless adapter, the two of them entered into an internet competition, acting as a two-man team in an old fashioned shoot-em-up game involving high-speed car chases. Duo sat at the desk, and Heero was using the edge of the same desk, his computer screen at right angles to Duo's.

It didn't take long for them to adapt to each other's style. Duo tended to toy with their competition, whereas Heero seemed to quickly assess the situation and acted almost impulsively at times, which would have surprised Duo if not for Heero's behavior earlier in the day.

Duo felt like he was back in high school, except he couldn't remember having this much fun back then. When he'd played video games in those days, it had been on occasions when he'd skipped school and snuck into the arcades, picking the lock on one of the coin boxes to acquire a handful of tokens for himself and his so-called friends. Even though a home computer version of a popular arcade game couldn't compare, lacking the realistic controls and the surround sound and imaging, Duo couldn't compare the companionship he felt here in the suite with any afternoon spent at the local video arcade.

He came very close to whooping with joy when their 'names' came up as the winners. There were a few grudging congratulations from their opponents, and an invitation for another round, but there were other activities planned for the day besides computer games. Duo asked Heero if he wanted to play again, anyway, and was pleased when Heero shook his head no. Then he worried that maybe Heero hadn't enjoyed the game.

He shook his head. No, that wasn't possible. He'd caught Heero getting into it a few times. That had been one of the advantages of Heero's being set up adjacent to where he was sitting. He'd expected Heero to use the table as his station, because the wireless adapter allowed him to connect to the internet from anywhere in the suite, but Heero had moved a chair to the end of the desk and placed the docking station there. Duo was certainly not going to point out that they'd be a bit crowded. Actually, it hadn't been much of a problem, because they weren't side by side.

Heero had looked a bit smug when his mouse cuff allowed a bit more dexterity than Duo's touch pad, but Duo got his turn to look triumphant when Heero ran out of ammo at a rather crucial point. Heero had looked almost shocked, as if such a thing were inconceivable. Duo had a hard time not laughing in his face at that one.

For a moment, he'd remembered Heero's rifle shooting earlier in the week, and wondered just how much experience Heero had with guns. He'd quickly tamped the thought down. Right now he wanted to learn more about Heero than what he'd done or hadn't done in the past.

"You choose next," Duo said after they'd disconnected from the gaming site.

Heero looked surprised, but then he glanced over at the table and back at Duo.

"_Verbatim et litteratim_," he said.

"I don't know Latin," Duo confessed.

"Word for word, and letter for letter," Heero translated.

This time Duo looked over at the table. "Couldn't you have just SAID you wanted to play Scrabble, you geek?" he asked, missing the tiny smile that appeared on Heero's face at the lighthearted insult.

Kitty would have liked Duo, Heero decided. She would have liked him a lot.

~~~~~

"Bishop tells me you need some assistance in determining someone's innocence," Montague said to Wufei.

"Innocence would be the desirable outcome," Wufei said, "but first I need to know who the prints belong to."

Montague studied Wufei's face, but Wufei had always managed to maintain a facade of calm in the courtroom, and this was really no different. The only time he'd allowed himself to show his feelings was when he was alone with his client. He'd even managed to keep his composure after the case he lost to Khushrenada.

"Any other prints that you know of on this?" the towheaded detective asked, holding the plastic bag and its contents up to the light.

"Mine," Wufei said. "Near the bottom of the bottle. Any prints on the label might be a bit smudged."

"Better if I can get them off the plastic, because it's smoother," Montague said. "But I'll warn ya, dusting doesn't work as well on flexible surfaces. Too bad it wasn't a glass bottle."

Wufei had considered that, but he'd also figured it would be a lot harder to smuggle a glass bottle out of the suite. And there was that little bit of distrust he'd had of handing Heero something he could knock him out with. That had been before he'd found out that a glass bottle was the least of his worries.

"I'll need your prints as well," Montague added. Wufei nodded. He'd expected that. His heart sank a bit at the possibility that the prints might not be easily lifted from the plastic.

He washed his hands in the little washroom indicated after he'd given his prints to the detective. Just as he was rejoining the other man, Montague cursed at his computer.

"What's wrong?" Wufei asked.

Montague pointed at the screen, where a dozen sheep were falling from the top of the screen to the bottom, slowly covering the lower desktop images as the process repeated.

"Are you in a hurry?" he asked Wufei.

Wufei was, but for personal reasons. "I don't need the information immediately."

"I want to take my time with this," he said, gesturing to the bottle which was now supported upside down on what looked like a plastic rod. "And then I will need to run the prints against yours, then take the unknown prints and run them through the electronic database. That's assuming I am able to lift any from this."

Wufei nodded. "I appreciate any assistance you are able to provide."

"Ah, Sid and I go way back," Montague said, waving to show it was no big deal. "You got a local number I can reach you at?"

Wufei was ready to give him his cell phone number, then realized that it had a New York area code.

This was exactly why he didn't deal well with subterfuge. 'Creative nonfiction' was more Duo's style. He sighed internally and gave the detective the number to the apartment. It was only a matter of time before Meiran found out, anyway.

"I'll call ya when I have something."

"Please contact me even if you are unable to get the prints, just so I know that avenue has been closed."

"You got it. Next time you see Sid, remind him that he owes me a favor." He noticed Wufei's alarmed look and laughed. "Not for this one. It's actually nice to have an excuse to use the ol' fingerprint kit. I still get a little thrill out of seeing something appear after I dust an object. It's a little more sophisticated than the cocoa powder and Scotch tape I used as a kid, but some things just never grow old, I guess."

"I cannot express to you enough my gratitude-"

"Listen, Chang, get the hell out of here before you make me gag. I'll call ya," he said, waving the number Wufei had scribbled down for him.

Wufei left, then pulled out his cell phone to arrange for a taxi to pick him up. He would use that time to decide whether to tell his wife what he'd done before he had any information or after he found out who the prints belonged to.

Either way, she was probably going to have something to say about it.

He sighed. He hoped the cab driver that was assigned to his call took his sweet time getting there.

~~~~~

Quatre stared at the entrance doors to the bar on Hollywood Boulevard. If he squinted at them, he could get them to look more like one door. He hoped he didn't look like an idiot by trying to reach for a nonexistent doorknob on the window.

He was relieved that the doors resolved themselves into a single entranceway as he drew closer, and he gripped the knob securely before taking a deep breath and walking in.

His heart fell to his feet when he realized That Woman was sitting near the bar again. At least this time she wasn't wearing her uniform.

Part of him wanted to leave, and part of him wanted to walk right up and sit at the bar, as he had done every morning for the past few months.

Then Heero had taken that job, and That Woman had appeared out of nowhere, and Iria kept calling...

As if on cue, the phone rang. He heaved a sigh of relief when he heard Trowa rattled off the bar's hours of operation. He'd known it couldn't be Iria, but for some reason he feared it was anyway. There hadn't been a single time when she'd called that he hadn't known who was on the other end before Trowa lifted the phone off the receiver.

Trowa finally acknowledged his presence by making eye contact, and he frowned.

Quatre stiffened. What was his problem? He'd organized the damn pretzels the best he could before he left, and he hadn't been rude to That Woman.

Trowa said something to her and left his station behind the bar to lead Quatre over to a table off to the side, which was still empty even though the place was filling up fast.

"What is she doing here?" Quatre asked accusingly.

"You're drunk," Trowa hissed. "Are you out of your mind coming here in that condition?"

Out of my mind, Quatre thought. Out of my mind, out of my mind, out of my mind...a singsong voice kept chanting. He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead for a moment, then opened them and met Trowa's glare steadily.

"Thank _you_ for the Bulleit," he said evenly. Trowa cursed under his breath, but Quatre wasn't about to give him any quarter. He'd only done what Trowa had wanted him to do. He'd taken the bottle back to the apartment and then he drank it. He knew what he was drinking, just like Trowa wanted him to. Bulleit Bourbon. Frontier whiskey. Liquid courage.

"How do you know That Woman?" Quatre rephrased his earlier question. He knew he was being stubborn, but she was yet another thing unraveling the very fabric of what he considered to be his home.

He looked around. What was really home to him? This bar? Or the people in it? He closed his eyes again. This week had been hell. He hadn't realized how much he'd come to rely on Heero's dry manner around people and Trowa's quiet acceptance of their lifestyles.

This time when he opened his eyes, he realized he'd been left alone at the table, and he felt the snub right through his heart. Trowa was speaking with That Woman at the bar. Then he turned and walked right back to where he'd left Quatre sitting.

And the woman was with him.

Quatre wanted to bolt, terrified that she was there to arrest him. She could get him on several counts. Trowa wouldn't go so far as to turn him in, he was sure of it. Wasn't he?

Trowa gestured for the woman to sit down across from Quatre, and then he stood there with his arms crossed. His eyes bored into the blond man's head.

Quatre wanted to ask what he was looking at, but knew better than to press his luck at this point.

"I suppose it's only fair, Quatre," Trowa said quietly. "Quid pro quo."

Quatre stared at him blankly but managed to avoid gaping like a fish out of water.

"You might have some idea as to what was going on if you had the guts to speak with Iria," he continued. "But I guess I gave you far too much credit. I thought you were..." Trowa trailed off, and looked away for a moment.

"I know why she's been calling you so often, Quatre, and you'd know, too, if you didn't ask me to push her off with excuses. Couple of reasons, actually, but it's not my place to tell you. She wants you to call her back, even if it's collect, but I'm sure that's nothing she hasn't told you before, back when you used to accept her phone calls."

Quatre shook his head. He wasn't sure if he was disagreeing with all or part of what Trowa had said, or trying to deny that Trowa had somehow figured out everything. Just because he said he knew why she was calling didn't mean he knew why Quatre had left in the first place. It was no secret that he was gay, by any means, but still, the idea that Trowa would look at him and realize the whole truth...but then, he'd often suspected that Trowa knew more than he let on. His head was still pounding despite the six ibuprofen tablets he'd taken earlier.

"So, Quatre," Trowa began again. "In a sense, I've made the acquaintance of your sister, and I've certainly spoken to her more lately than you have. Tit for tat."

Trowa moved to stand behind That Woman. "Quatre," he said, "this is my sister, Catherine Bloom. She just transferred from the Kern County Sheriff's Department to the LAPD. And Catherine," he continued, looking at his sister. "I'd like you to meet a friend of mine. Quatre Raberba..." he paused, and his eyes bored right into Quatre's over her head. "...Winner."

~~~~~

"Want to make it more challenging?" Heero asked with that lazy smile of his.

Duo swallowed, wondering whether he was referring to the rules of the board game or the outcome. Either way seemed pretty appealing, though, if Heero's behavior so far today was any indication.

"I love a challenge," he said confidently.

"Nine-tile Scrabble," Heero said, selecting his tile and waiting for Duo to do the same to determine who would go first. "And we don't limit ourselves to the dictionary."

"You mean slang counts?"

"I mean any word that can be verified as an actual word using two separate web sites. That would open the doors to specialized medical terms, financial buzz words, and words that just aren't used by the general populace."

"As long as they are single words and not phrases," Duo agreed, mainly because he wanted to see what kinds of words Heero might pull out of his hat.

"Now the Bingo bonus," Heero added, showing his tile. It was an E. "Occurs when seven tiles are used to form or modify a word. In nine-tile Scrabble, as you might guess, you get 'Bingo' when at least seven tiles are used, but you don't have to use seven tiles exactly, nor do you need to use all of your tiles."

Duo showed his letter. It was a blank, meaning he got the first turn. "So using seven, eight, or nine in a turn gets you 'Bingo.' Yeah, like that's going to happen, but all right."

They returned their tiles to the main pile and Heero mixed them up again while Duo got up and pulled two beers out of the cubic refrigerator.

"Gotta love twist off caps," he said, removing both caps and handing one bottle to Heero before sitting down again. Heero randomly selected nine tiles and then started arranging them on his tray.

He'd been really worried about the beer, after Heero's comment that first night that he didn't drink, but Heero calmly took a sip and set the bottle down, then rearranged the tiles a few times while Duo mulled over his own.

This game could tell him a lot about Heero, he'd decided when he'd chosen it, more so than any other games. He'd wanted to allow foreign phrases, too, to see how many Heero might be able to come up with, but that had seemed far too contrived a plan. He hadn't lied when he said he wanted to have a lazy day.

Actually, he'd said he was looking forward to living the simple life for a change, but it seemed a ridiculous thing to say, considering that they were sitting in the middle of a luxury penthouse suite in Beverly Hills. It was about as far removed from 'simple' as one could get.

He was going to miss it here, though. It seemed as though everything he'd believed about himself had come into question here, but he'd also found that he was truly enjoying himself for the first time in what must have been a very long time.

He'd spent a good part of the week wondering who Heero was, but it seemed he was finding more about who he was as a result.

It was a frightening thought, so he pushed it aside. He could not let self-analysis interfere with his last day with Heero.

That thought made him feel suddenly like an inmate on death row, or a patient in a terminal cancer ward.

Heero's hand touched one of his briefly, and he nearly jumped, so absorbed was he in that sudden bout of melancholy.

"Hands off, buddy," he said, covering his tiles protectively. "I take my Scrabble very seriously."

Heero looked at him skeptically, but Duo would swear that he'd really wanted to believe what he'd just been told.

"Your turn," he finally said.

"Damn straight," Duo replied, adopting an air of deep thought.

He had nothing to work with. Could he possibly have any more E's? They were the most commonly used letter in the alphabet, but they did him no good without the consonants to go with them. Besides, they were only worth one point each.

He chose a four-letter word and placed two letters to the left of the star and one to the right.

C-R-O-P. "Eight points," he said, jotting down his total on the score sheet.

"Hmm," Heero responded, shuffling his tiles around. He frowned at them, then shuffled them again.

It was obvious Heero was one of those competitive types. Either that or he was determined to distract Duo with the way his tongue stuck out of the corner of his lip, just slightly. He probably wouldn't have noticed, had his eyes not been fixed on Heero's mouth in the first place. Suddenly the lips twitched slightly, and Duo's gaze moved to Heero's eyes, which had a wicked gleam in them.

That did not bode well.

"I'm using a blank," he said, "as an L."

Why he was announcing it now, Duo had no idea, and he was surprised that Heero would use such a versatile tile this early in the game.

Until Heero started laying down tiles. A lot of them.

To the left of CROP, he placed an M, right on the double letter square, then an A. To the right, he added an H, then another A, then an L, also on a double letter square, and then the blank tile. The blank was followed by a U, and the last square, the triple word square, was covered by an S.

"Is that even a word?" Duo blurted out, mentally replacing the blank tile with the letter Heero had stated at the beginning of his turn.

"Are you issuing a challenge?" Heero asked, quirking his eyebrow in that familiar gesture.

Duo was sure Heero would be able to find at least FIVE web sites that referenced the word.

"Does it mean what I think it means?"

"An abnormally large penis," Heero stated calmly. His expression would have seemed blank if not for the glimmer of humor in those eyes.

"Shit," Duo said, a bit in awe.

Heero seemed to delight in tallying up his score. "Double points for the M, and for the L," he said. "Zero for the blank, of course, but I get all eight points from the original 'crop' as well." Duo listened to him sum the total, and then triple the twenty-four points to seventy-two, for the triple word bonus.

"And the Bingo bonus for using eight tiles in one turn," Heero said.

One hundred twenty-two points in a single turn, and a word that he hadn't known existed. It was an impressive start.

Unfortunately, Duo couldn't do better than BRUISED using the U in macrophallus for a total of eighteen points with two triple letter bonuses. Heero retaliated with ORGY and two double letter bonuses.

So that's how Heero wanted to play. That was fine with him.

He was pleased to see he had the letters to spell GROPED using the D in bruised, and Heero opted to exchange a few tiles on his third turn. That left Duo with LOX using the O in groped, and he was pleased to get rid of the infernal X, as well as earning a double word bonus. Not that he had much chance of competing with Heero's triple-word-and-Bingo-bonus opening move.

Then Heero had that satisfied look again. "This time the blank is the letter P."

"How the hell did you manage to get the only two blank tiles with three turns?" Duo fumed.

As if to prove a point, Heero carefully placed an A under the M of macrophallus, then an R, then the blank tile. L, O, and T completed his word, and of course he'd managed to get yet another double word bonus.

M-A-R-P-L-O-T. He'd heard the word before, he was pretty sure. It was just difficult to "see" the word with the blank in place of the letter.

Finally he remembered what it meant. The name was pretty suggestive of its meaning.

"The best laid plans of mice and men," Heero said.

Duo snorted. "Yeah, laid to ruin by a buttinsky."

Heero frowned slightly, as if a thought had occurred to him, then the crease between his brows cleared up.

"Sometimes the person causing plans to go astray doesn't do so by meddling, but by his mere presence," he said simply, but did not elaborate.

Duo wasn't sure if Heero was trying to tell him something or was deliberately trying to psych him out, but he decided to check his tiles to see if he could come up with any other suggestive words for Heero's enjoyment.

He really shouldn't have watched Heero take a long swig from the bottle, though, because as soon as Heero noticed that Duo's eyes were on him, he stuck his tongue in the bottleneck as he drank.

Only the fact that Heero had already brought him to orgasm three times so far that day kept him from sweeping the board and the tiles to the floor and launching himself across the table at Heero.

The idea DID still seem to hold a certain appeal, though. Two could play the act-on-one's-hormonal-impulses game. To grab Heero, place one hand behind his head, in that impossibly thick hair...the other against the flat planes of his chest...and then to capture that wicked tongue between his lips and suck on it...he felt his pants grow a bit tight at the visual image.

Then he remembered the whole kissing rule was still in play, and the next time he took a sip from his own bottle, it tasted sour.

"Duo?"

"Yuck," Duo said, grimacing as he held the bottle out. "I wonder why they call this the King of Beers. It's pretty awful."

Heero's brows furrowed once again, and he realized he shouldn't have teased Duo like that. Somehow he'd upset him. Was Duo already regretting doing the hanging out with a buddy type of thing?

They both lost interest after that, but they continued it anyway. Neither of them went out of their way to find suggestive words for the duration of the game, but they did both finish off two beers before the last tile was played.

Heero won, but he sure as hell didn't feel like he'd gained much of a victory.

tbc

~~~~~

Thanks everyone, for the encouragement. I am sorry it took me longer to update than it normally has, but it was bound to happen some day! On the bright side, I think 44 won't be long in coming...it's about half done at the moment, so keep your fingers crossed!


	44. The High Window

****

The Edulcoration of Duo Maxwell - 44/?

~~~~~~~

Warnings: AU, yaoi, coarse language, violence, angst, cliffhangers, red herrings, mention of various vices, random bits of useless knowledge, occasionally explicit sex.

Spoilers: None for GW, and I'm now quite convinced almost nada for Pretty Woman.

Disclaimer: I don't really need to be Captain Obvious here, do I? No ownership, no money being made, yadda yadda. Written for fun, not profit.

Archived at:   
http : // www . atsui . org  
http : // www.gundam-wing-diaries.150m.com / gw / Mookie / gwmookie . htm

__

Edulcorate (verb) - To free from harshness (as of attitude); to soften

~~~~~

****

Chapter 44 - The High Window

Wufei entered the apartment quietly, suspecting that Meiran had arrived home before him. She'd not been waiting long, he hoped, although it had been a couple hours since he'd left her with the key to the Enzo.

She grinned at him from the sofa as he shrugged off his jacket and hung it up. "Drives like a wet dream," she said. "I'm sure you know what that's like, right?"

He grunted in reply and tried to make his way to the bathroom before she said anything else.

"In a hurry?" she asked.

It was the second time he'd been asked that question, and for the second time, he wanted to say yes. Instead, he asked, "why?"

She got up from the couch and met him in the hallway. "Maybe I just missed you," she said, running her hands up his arms and lacing them together behind his neck. She leaned forward to kiss him, but before their lips met, her eyes narrowed. She kept her left hand behind his head and used the right one to tilt his face first one way, then the other, before tightening the fingers at the nape of his neck and using them to steer him into the kitchen.

She examined his left cheek, then slapped him on the back of the head. Hard.

"What the hell, Meiran?"

"I told you not to do anything stupid!"

"What makes you think I did anything-" he paused. He knew damn well what she was talking about, and even if he wanted to lie and say he'd walked into a door, she'd point out that THAT had been a stupid thing to do.

He'd hoped against hope that there wasn't going to be a bruise, or at least there wouldn't be one until the next day, but apparently his initial assessment had been correct. He wondered if that had been visible while he was speaking with Montague. He didn't recall noticing any discoloration when he was in the washroom, and there had been a small mirror over the sink.

She pulled the tie from his ponytail and ran her fingers through his hair, then leaned her forehead against his.

"I've always told you I was smarter than you," she said teasingly.

"You're not mad?" he asked, not caring that it was as good as an admission of guilt. He'd never been able to put anything past her.

"I'm not happy with you," she said. "But I did tell you I trusted you. You'll dig your own hole, I'm sure, but I'll try to keep a rope nearby you're done. Our lives would be pretty damn boring if you were as perfect as you think you are."

He didn't bother defending himself. He'd never thought himself as perfect, and she knew it, but they'd learned long ago that it was easy for anyone who didn't really know him to form that opinion.

"Know what?" she asked, sitting on his lap. "I don't want to know. Don't tell me what you did. I know you did something, and I know whatever it was, it was something sneaky, because you have that guilty look about you. It's not your style, Wufei, and I am pretty sure you're conscience will do a better job than I can." She tucked some of his hair behind his left ear and planted a light kiss on the bruise, then stood up.

She walked to the freezer and removed the ice tray. "Make yourself useful, Chang," she said, "and get a washcloth."

He did as he was told, removing one from the linen closet outside the bathroom. He avoided stepping through that doorway and looking at his face in the mirror.

When he returned to the kitchen, she beckoned him over. As he handed the washcloth to her, she leaned her head back slightly, then slammed her skull into his forehead.

He wanted to tell her that he could not believe she'd just headbutted him, but he'd known Meiran for years, and nothing she did surprised him for very long.

"Just because I trust you," she said, taking the washcloth from one hand as he rubbed his head with the other. "Doesn't mean that I am not still mad at you," she said, finally answering his earlier question. She wrapped the ice in the washcloth and handed it back to him. She leaned forward and he cringed slightly.

She smiled and kissed him softly on the hand that was covering his wounded forehead, then on the ear. While her lips were there, she murmured, "you make it both so very easy to be angry with you, and almost impossible to stay that way."

As soon as she drew away, he held the impromptu ice pack to his now throbbing head, wondering if she'd given it to him for that reason. He wouldn't put it past her.

She was looking at his left cheekbone and obviously trying to hold in a laugh.

"What?" he growled.

"I'll tell you tomorrow," she said. She had a look of unabashed amusement on her face, and he suspected that he wouldn't find it nearly as entertaining, whatever 'it' was.

He thought he was probably getting off with an extremely light sentence.

~~~~~

Heero felt frantic. He needed to put things to rights, and obviously any sexual overtures he might make would only worsen the situation.

Duo was staring at a third bottle of beer, not wanting it any more than he'd wanted the second one. How had things gone so wrong, so fast? He had to stop expecting so much. He'd already gotten far more than he'd imagined when he'd made his proposition to Heero.

But you want more than even that, don't you?

Yes. No. Yes! I don't know! I don't know what I want!

And that's why things didn't work out with Hilde, either.

This is nothing like what I had - or didn't have - with Hilde.

That's right. That's dead to nuts, right on the money, correctomundo. In fact, it can't even compare to that so-called relationship with Hilde.

And you know exactly what you want. You just won't admit it.

As Heero watched a series of emotions flit across Duo's face, he felt his fledgling sense of panic threaten to overwhelm him. He pounced on the first object he saw on the table that could prove to be a distraction. He fumbled with the box flap and then shook the playing cards into his left hand. He nearly dropped the cards to the floor in the process.

All he could think was, Duo reminded him, in some small ways, of Kitty. That gave him the courage to attempt something like this. Duo had the guts to go out and buy all these things, in the hopes of having a day not bound by rules; the least he could do was gird his loins and take a chance. No rules, right?

"Duo?"

Duo wanted to snap at Heero, tell him to go fuck himself, but he couldn't. Instead, he simply turned his gaze to the other man, who was rapidly shuffling cards like a Vegas dealer. He formed a bridge and let the cards waterfall into his waiting fingers before rifling the cards again and starting over.

He knew that Heero was asking him a subtle question, and Duo wished he would just spit it out.

"Fine, Heero, but you pick. I don't care what we play." And he didn't. But so help him, if Heero said 'strip poker,' Duo would throw him out the door so fast his head would spin. He just wasn't in the mood right now.

"Fifty-two pickup?" Heero asked.

"Fine," Duo said, relieved that those dreaded words had not been uttered. Then what Heero had actually said registered, and he realized what he'd just agreed to.

Approximately forty of the fifty-two cards managed to hit him in the face as Heero turned the cards toward him and let them fly.

He stared at Heero in disbelief, and you could hear a pin drop. Or at least the last couple of playing cards that drifted to the floor.

Then he started laughing.

"C'mon," he said, pointing at the TV with his beer. "Let's watch that movie instead."

Heero let Duo move to the loveseat first, taking a few moments to allow himself to regulate his breathing, and then followed. He glanced at the fallen cards, then cast a parting glimpse out the nearest set of balcony doors as if seeking some sort of reassurance or inspiration, before taking a seat next to Duo.

~~~~~

Quatre thought his heart would stop beating when Trowa introduced him to Catherine. How had Trowa found out?

Iria, you idiot. Trowa talked to Iria all the time.

He had a pounding headache, being taken by surprise had wounded his pride, and on top of all that, of all times for him to feel this way, he was incredibly horny. Apparently liquor amplified more than his erratic sense of empathy, something that was usually limited to people he was close to. Either that or someone in the bar was feeling amorous and the feeling was seeping into the edges of Quatre's being. Quid pro quo, eh? His mind was still a bit fuzzy, but he would certainly be sure to get his own pound of flesh after this. As soon as he got a handle on the other things that were making him feel a bit off balance.

Fortunately he didn't have to figure out any type of retaliation immediately, because it seemed that an introduction was all that Trowa had intended. His sister got up from the table. Trowa headed for the bar immediately, but Catherine waited until Quatre was standing as well. Part of his mind was chastising him for not standing when she'd arrived. A gentleman stands in a lady's presence until she is seated, Almira's voice nagged.

Catherine held out her hand, and he stared at it for an uncomfortable moment before accepting it in a handshake.

"It was a pleasure to meet you, Quatre. Any friend of Trowa's is a friend of mine."

This time the way she said Trowa's name, with a slight accent on the first syllable, sounded less grating on his ears.

"The pleasure was mine," he said automatically, squeezing her hand firmly but gently and then releasing it.

Catherine returned to her seat at the bar, the one closest to where Trowa had flipped up the trapdoor in the counter when he'd told her he wanted to introduce her to someone.

She'd noticed the young blond's arrival, because Trowa's eyes had followed him from the moment he'd walked through the door. She wouldn't have noticed if she weren't seated close to Trowa, because his impossibly long bangs effectively hid his eyes from sight when he chose to. She used to tease him about it when they were younger, telling him that he'd had his hair trained to act as a shield.

Trowa was actually her half-brother. Their father was married to Catherine's mother, although they hadn't been at the time Catherine was born. Leander Bloom hadn't known he had a son until Trowa was approximately three, and then it was only a name on some papers, informing him that the mother of one Trowa Barton was recently deceased. As the other parent named on Trowa's birth certificate, he had the option of accepting his paternal rights, and assuming responsibility for the child, or he could challenge the documents via a paternity test, or several other options, although none were all that different from the first two.

Cardea Bloom, naturally, hadn't been pleased to find out her husband had fathered another child, even if they'd only been on-again, off-again at the time she'd gotten pregnant with Catherine. He'd insisted that it had been during one of the "off" periods in their relationship that he'd gotten involved, briefly, with Lisa Barton.

Her parents had both been given permission to meet Trowa, who had just been placed with a foster family. It had taken Catherine's mother just one look at the quiet little boy with 'such sad green eyes, like a weeping willow, especially with that hair' to decide that Trowa was going home with them.

Catherine had wished her hair was as straight as Trowa's, but she took after her mother, with her unmanageably curly hair. She should get it all cut off for her job, but she hated the way she looked with short hair. She'd tried that look in college, and it had been a disaster.

When Trowa had enlisted, it had been even more of a shock to see him with his hair cropped close to his head. By the time he'd been selected for the newly formed Special Forces, he'd become quite broad in the chest and shoulders.

She was pleased that he'd managed to maintain his physique. She felt that he was showing them that he might be down and out, but he still had control over his own self.

Of course, he hadn't yet told her the entire story, but she was able to draw conclusions she was reasonably sure were correct from what he'd said about GHB. If she weren't, she was in the wrong line of work.

It was bad enough what had been done to him by his peers, but now what was Trowa thinking?

"He's young," she said.

"So am I."

She had no response for that. He was right. She tended to forget that, because he hadn't gone to college like she had, so by the time he was on his way home, he was still younger than she'd been when she enrolled in the Academy. He'd always been such a serious boy, too, despite her best efforts. Some of her fondest memories were times when she'd managed to get her little brother to giggle, and then, when he got older, to chuckle softly, and finally, she settled for a smile or two.

Which was why she'd been so shocked to hear him laugh the other day. What had she said to make him laugh? It was pretty raunchy, she remembered that. She glanced over at the blond, who had seated himself at the table again. He looked like he was on a slow burn as his eyes started roaming, sizing up the patrons of the bar.

Article 125. That was it. She'd said something about having sex with a sheep.

Well, she wasn't about to play that card again.

She was not comfortable with the looks Trowa kept shooting toward the table in the corner, though. She was off duty, but she didn't want to have to wage an internal war, her sense of upholding the law versus her loyalty to her brother.

She got up and became engaged in a friendly dart competition, to help her keep her wits about her. If not for her job, she would have collected quite a few dollars, but that would have constituted gambling. She'd been sorely tempted, however, just because she knew damn well that the guys had no idea she was incredibly accurate. They should see her with a couple of Silver Wings.

She glanced at Trowa again, whose eyes were again riveted on Quatre as the blond started to make his way over to a group of what looked like college students. She should have taken Chapman up on that offer to spend the evening behind the plated glass window at the station, at the rate things were going so far this evening.

She threw her third dart with a bit more force than needed upon seeing her brother once again flipped the trapdoor open.

'Trowa,' she thought, 'I hope you know what you're doing.'

~~~~~

Duo was seated on the loveseat to Heero's left. His back was against the armrest and he had both knees drawn against his chest as they watched the movie. Heero was surprised that he hadn't assumed his normal movie watching position on the floor in front of the television, and eventually he felt it was safe to say so.

Duo glanced over at him. "I only watch the classic stuff that way. When I was a kid, I'd get too involved in the plot and had to be practically on top of the TV as if it would bring me closer to the action. Now it's become an ingrained habit. I just can't watch it any other way."

"But you're able to watch other movies seated as you are now."

"Weird, isn't it? I don't know, maybe I don't usually find too many movies that I think need that much concentration."

Heero reached out a tentative hand and touched Duo's right ankle.

Duo stared at that hand, and Heero felt a bit awkward.

"Are you familiar with reflexology?" he blurted.

"That's that foot massage thing that corrects all that ails ya, right?" Duo asked. "Yeah, I've heard of it. Hilde would swear by it. I think she was really going to the spa for pedicures, but didn't want to admit it."

"It's similar to acupressure, or shiatsu," Heero said, running his hand over the top of Duo's foot and gently drawing it toward him, straightening Duo's leg as he did so.

It took little prompting to get Duo to stretch his other leg alongside it, across Heero's lap. Heero removed Duo's socks and simply rested one hand back on top of Duo's feet, letting his thumb trace lazy circles on the ankle closest to him.

Duo said nothing, just let Heero's hands grow bolder. Eventually the thumbs were working several spots on the soles of his foot, and if Hilde had actually been going for reflexology and not a pedicure, as he'd suspected, he could now understand why she'd been so gung-ho about it. He felt he might be enjoying it just a little too much.

"Ever see _Pulp Fiction_?" he asked Heero.

"No, but I've-"

"If you say you've read the book, I'll kick you," Duo warned, pulling his foot away slightly as if preparing to do so, but not so much that Heero would think he was telling him to stop.

"I wasn't going to say I read THE book," Heero said, "just that I've read pulp fiction, as in the genre. Like Dashiell Hammett's Sam Spade or Raymond Chandler's Philip Marlowe."

Duo laughed. "You read that stuff? Marlowe, eh? I don't suppose you saw the movie?"

Heero shook his head, and turned his attention to Duo's other foot.

"Your taste in books sounds suspiciously like my taste in movies," Duo commented. Then Heero's fingers grazed one particular spot on his instep that made him arch his back and bite his lip.

Heero paused and took in the sight of Duo's head thrown back slightly. He glanced at Duo's foot again. He'd never have imagined having a foot fetish, but if touching Duo like that made him react that way, then he'd gladly use his mouth as well as his hands, just to try to get Duo to moan for him.

He'd found he really liked that sound. Even thinking about hearing it was making him hard.

Something Duo found out unexpectedly when the foot still nestled in Heero's lap came to rest right on Heero's crotch.

The next thing Heero knew, Duo had both feet tucked under him and his attention was on the movie.

"As I was saying," he said, as if he hadn't just looked like he was close to ecstasy. "There's this scene in Pulp Fiction where they are discussing foot rubs and whether or not it's considered cheating."

Heero was no longer plagued by an erection, after Duo's horrifying response. He said nothing, keeping his eyes focused on the images flitting across the television screen. He wondered if perhaps he should be the one watching TV from the floor this time. At least the distance between them would be physical that way.

"And one insists a foot massage is innocent, but he wouldn't want another GUY to do it, thereby contradicting his stance that a foot rub means nothing. You can tell he finds it would be too creepy to rub another guy's feet."

Heero had forgotten that Duo was still coming to terms with his sexuality. He'd already been well on the road to accepting his own, thanks to Quatre, but it hadn't been until he'd had sex with Duo, repeatedly, that he'd concluded that there was a reason why he'd never been comfortable having sex with women.

It didn't make any sense, because Duo had gone down on him once, and had shoved his dick in both Heero's ass and mouth on several occasions, and yet it seemed he found a foot massage was something to be ashamed of. Maybe Duo found it too intimate, the way he found shaking hands and kissing.

He supposed it was a good thing he hadn't given in to that impulse to suck on each of Duo's toes, and to run his tongue in between them.

It wasn't that he thought Duo had pretty feet, although they were well formed. It was Duo's responses that drove him wild. Because they were both men, Heero could better relate to what Duo was feeling in certain parts of his anatomy, and therefore he suspected it made it that much more intense, knowing exactly how Duo felt.

Not exactly, he corrected himself, because each person had different erogenous zones, although there were some areas that were almost guaranteed to elicit a pleasurable reaction, and not everyone found the same things arousing. However, he knew what it felt like to have his balls fondled, and he could only imagine how it would feel if a lover were to take one of them in his mouth. He could relate to that on a much deeper level than he could to a woman's reaction to clitoral stimulation.

Heero had always assumed that everyone had a ridiculous expression on their face when they climaxed. He'd had few orgasms of his own, in addition to the times he'd taken his needs into his own hands, but he'd been told by two different girls that he looked 'funny' at that critical moment.

It wasn't the sort of thing a guy wanted to hear, even if it were true. He hadn't taken it to heart, not like he had with the kissing fiasco, because he'd known the girls had been nervous during the act and were grasping at straws to lighten the awkwardness of the situation after they'd managed to attain orgasm as well. Heero didn't know if it were due to embarrassment on their parts because they hadn't seen any other sexual partners looking like he apparently had, or if they were surprised because they hadn't reached a climax during any other sexual encounters, which was his preference. Maybe he didn't do it all the time or with every girl he'd ever been with. As if there had been that many. He could count them on the fingers of one hand, exactly.

He hadn't always been watching Duo's face in the instant right after Duo's body tensed in warning, but he had found himself becoming addicted to everything there was about an aroused Duo. His moans, the way his body writhed, even the way Duo thrust into him, as if he had no control over his pelvis. And yes, the expression on Duo's face when he was watching. He didn't find it funny at all, just immensely satisfying that he'd been the one to cause it.

At first he'd chalked it up to being in control and being able to elicit such responses from Duo, but then Duo had made him come. The first time, he'd been ashamed and disbelieving, but it quickly became something he craved almost as much as Duo's own release. Quite simply put, he craved _Duo_.

It was why he found it so important, the idea of today being a 'day off' for the both of them.

It was why he didn't want the day to end. Although everything that would come to pass, starting with tomorrow, wasn't necessarily bad, he knew that he was in way over his head.

But as he also knew, there were much worse ways to die than by drowning.

tbc

~~~~~

About the names - with few exceptions, I actually choose original character names for a reason. Even Nadia and Janet had names that were rather...inspired! Leander means "man of lions" - heh. Cardea - "goddess of protecting the home." And Lisa Barton - well, I confess, I ripped that off from the dubbed version of Endless Waltz, because it stuck in my head as being in disagreement with the name Leia Barton from the Episode Zero graphic novel (which I still grumble about, because I'd have much rather seen the entire manga translated instead of having little end notes for each character. Cheap bastards).

Silver Wings - a brand of throwing knives. You can see a pic of 'em here: http : // coolgadget . net / 2pisiwithset . html

__

Marlowe - based on the novel _The Little Sister_, was a 1969 film starring James Garner as Philip Marlowe, private detective. _The Big Sleep_, published in 1939, introduced Marlowe to the public, and was, coincidentally, set in Los Angeles. It was later made into the 1946 movie of the same name, starring Humphrey Bogart in the lead role.

The High Window - published in 1942. I thought the title was fitting, considering Heero's penchant for the balcony. Oh, did I neglect to mention it was also the title of a Philip Marlowe novel?

pulp fiction - a genre of novels sometimes described as "cheap paperbacks with colorful covers, overflowing with even more colorful prose." The word "pulp" referred to the low quality paper that was used for the text, despite the flashy covers. There were many genres that fell into the "pulp" family, including science fiction, mystery, suspense, western, and adventure. Ray Bradbury and H.P. Lovecraft join Chandler and Hammett as alums of the pulp era. A nice intro to pulp magazines can be found here: http : // www . vintagelibrary . com /df.cfm?id=32

Remember the scene, those of you who saw the movie Pulp Fiction, where Jules (Samuel L. Jackson) and Vincent (John Travolta) discuss the rumor that their boss, Marsellus Wallace, had some schmuck thrown off a balcony for daring to give his wife a foot massage? Jules maintains it didn't mean anything, and Vincent insists the guy should have known better than to put his hands on their boss' wife in a "familiar manner." Jules disagrees that it can even be considered in the "same ballpark" as oral sex, as Vincent claims, until his partner asks if he would ever give a guy a foot massage, even egging him on by telling him he's been on his feet all day and could use one. Vincent maintains that every foot massage he'd ever given a woman meant "something" even if they like it didn't, which was what was "so cool about it." He added, "there's a sensuous thing going on." There ya go. Yet another pop culture reference, circa 1994.


	45. Alea Iacta Est

****

The Edulcoration of Duo Maxwell - 45/?

~~~~~~~

Warnings: AU, yaoi, coarse language, violence, angst, cliffhangers, red herrings, mention of various vices, random bits of useless knowledge, occasionally explicit sex, excessive use of footnotes.

Rating: NC-17

Spoilers: None for GW, and I'm now quite convinced almost nada for Pretty Woman.

Disclaimer: I don't really need to be Captain Obvious here, do I? No ownership, no money being made, yadda yadda. Written for fun, not profit.

Archived at: (verb) - To free from harshness (as of attitude); to soften

~~~~~

****

Chapter 45 - Alea Iacta Est

A young woman with short dark hair turned the page of the magazine in her lap, but she wasn't reading it. Her thoughts were a jumble of past and present.

She wondered if she was making a mistake. Things hadn't ended well between the two of them. Not that they'd ended badly, really, it was just impossible to stop trying to shift the blame in her head.

It was easy to place all of it on his shoulders alone, but to be honest, she carried her own share of what had gone wrong. Maybe if they'd both just worked a little harder, the relationship might not have fizzled away into nothing. As with any argument, things had been said that neither of them meant, but perhaps they'd built them up into things that seemed much bigger than they really were.

Maybe she'd expected too much of him. She'd known how demanding running a business was.

On the other hand, she had needs, too. She had her own job, and she still managed to make time to see him whenever possible. Sometimes it seemed as thought he'd been doing his best to push her away, and eventually she just got tired of trying.

Besides, he didn't seem too concerned when it ended. Angry, perhaps, but not actually upset. Like the biggest hurt was to his pride.

She should have her head examined. She hoped he wouldn't be angry when she showed up unannounced.

They began boarding for her flight, and she picked up her carryon bag. It was too late to do anything about it now.

And if things didn't work out the way she'd hoped, she knew a certain woman of Chinese heritage who had been willing to lend a sympathetic ear on occasion over the past few months, all without interjecting her own opinion.

She just hoped she wouldn't need to take advantage of that. She hated burdening people she considered her friends.

Several hours later, the plane was still sitting in the runway and all passengers had been diverted to other flights. She wondered if it was worth all this hassle. Just her luck that there were some 'unexpected technical difficulties.' She was going to miss the connecting flight for sure, and would be lucky to get there by late morning or early afternoon.

After all this, if he said one thing to piss her off when she got there, she'd stuff as much of that hair of his right in his mouth and hope he choked on it.

~~~~~

When the phone in the apartment rang, Wufei looked at it with a mixture of trepidation and anticipation.

"Expecting someone?" Meiran drawled from where she was reading the latest novel in one of the mystery series she seemed so fond of lately.

He got up from the armchair where he'd been flipping through a book of his own, unable to properly focus on the words in front of him, and answered.

As he'd suspected, it was Montague.

"Sorry I didn't get back to you sooner," the policeman said. "There were a few problems."

"You weren't able to lift the prints?"

"Actually, I got a really nice thumbprint, right above the label. Thought it wouldn't lift properly, with the label so close to it. I wanted to remove the label first, but I didn't want to risk disturbing the prints further. Didn't matter, though, as the majority of the print was intact. However, when I tried to access the database..." he trailed off for a moment, and it sounded to Wufei as if he were covering the mouthpiece to bark an order at one of the other officers in the station.

Wufei remembered the falling sheep on the computer screen and had a sinking feeling that someone had installed some sort of virus or worm that made the database inaccessible. Suddenly he wondered why this was so important to him. What had he hoped to accomplish, anyway?

Then Montague was back.

"Well, I have good news, and some news that isn't bad, but I found it...interesting."

"What's the good news?"

"I got a match, and can give you a name. Heero Yuy. No priors."

That seemed encouraging to Wufei. It was what he'd wanted, right? And at least the man wasn't using an alias, that he knew of. Duo had never introduced his new 'friend' as anything other than just 'Heero,' so maybe he knew nothing more than Duo did.

"The funny thing is," Montague continued, "the guy has no criminal record, because all of us local stations would have access to that database. But Yuy's name was a hyperlink as well, so naturally, I clicked on it."

He paused, and Wufei wanted to reach through the phone to throttle him. What did he think this was, mystery theater? He gave in and gave Montague what the man was apparently waiting for.

"And?"

"And I didn't have the necessary security clearance. For whatever reason, any further information on Yuy is restricted to those employed by the federal government."

~~~~~

Duo picked up the jigsaw puzzle box, squinted at the piece in his hand, and handed it to Heero.

Heero accepted it, took one look at the box, and put it in one of the three piles they'd had sorted so far.

"That looks like water to you? Not tree bark?"

"Water."

"Ya sure?"

"Reasonably so."

Duo continued sorting through his portion of edge pieces and putting together the ones that formed the left edge of the picture. Heero already had the right edge and the top of the puzzle assembled and was working on what looked like a bit of shrubbery.

The bag of Fritos was open and every now and then one of them would reach into the bag and take a few out, followed by a sip from the last bottle of beer, which they were sharing.

"These things are a lot saltier than I remember them being," Duo said, eating two of them and taking a swig.

"Why Fritos?" Heero asked without looking up from the section he was assembling. He picked up the box lid that Duo had set down and frowned. "This looks like a Bird of Paradise," he said, his brows furrowing slightly.

"I got them because they were on sale. Same with the beer. Bird of Paradise? Is that a problem?"

"There is snow on the ground in spots," Heero said. "I don't think these plants bloom in the winter. You really bought them because they were on sale?"

"Well, yeah, isn't that what the average guy does? My mom was a coupon freak," Duo said, realizing what he thought was part of the left side actually fit as part of the ground edge. "I don't think that's snow," he added. "I think it's a puddle, but it's reflecting the clouds overhead."

Heero took another look at the picture on the box. "Hmmm." He finished putting together the pieces forming the Bird of Paradise shrub and pushed it aside, then started sorting through the pieces that they assumed made up the nearby koi pond. "I don't know what other guys did, but the few times I've had beer, we didn't just go out and look for a sale."

He looked up at Duo briefly. "You went in and got cheap beer, sure, but you didn't really comparison shop too much. It made you look too young to buy beer in the first place, like a kid in a candy store, so you had an idea of what you wanted, you went in, and you got it. And we weren't beer snobs, but we didn't always go for the practically generic brand. We had some standards."

Actually, Heero had always been the one to go in and buy the beer during that time he'd been working up north, because everyone else thought it was funny the way he'd get carded every single time. His lack of facial hair always made him look much younger than his peers. It was nice to be such a source of amusement, he thought testily. He rubbed his chin and noted once again how smooth it was, and how unlike Duo's. Sometimes he wondered if he had a testosterone deficiency. Then he peeked at Duo beneath his long lashes and decided that, if he did, it certainly hadn't affected his sex drive.

"So import or domestic, in your vast experience?" Duo said, wanting to laugh at the way Heero had rolled his eyes before lowering his gaze to the puzzle again. "Man, I really need to stop eating these," he added, taking a swallow of beer to wash down another handful of chips.

"When I was in Buffalo," Heero said, "imported meant from Canada, which was practically in our backyard, so it was a big joke to call it that. And we drank Goebel's back then," he put one piece they'd set aside for the pond back into the unsorted pile.

"Joe Bell's?"

"Mmm hmmm. Cheap, but not that bad."

Duo found Heero had rapidly slipped back into his habit of dropping little bits of information as he weren't saying anything that Duo didn't already know.

"When were you in Buffalo?"

"Back when a few people needed my help with something," Heero said, not really answering Duo's question. Duo knew better than to point that out.

Duo was amazed at how quickly Heero's fingers moved, and how adept he was at identifying pieces. He was still trying to fit together two pieces that were obviously mismatched. Finally he got one of the pieces where it belonged and he completed the outside of the puzzle.

"I left all my beer choices to the recommendations from my roommate's older brother," Duo said. "He was the beer connoisseur."

"Meaning he'd had brands from at least five different countries, and of three different alcohol contents."

"Something like that," Duo said. "But he loved the ones with the interesting names. La Guillotine. Delirium Tremens. Arrogant Bastard. Dead Horse. Stuff like that."

"We liked Haffenreffer's Private Stock, too," Heero said suddenly.

"Was it as good as your Joe Bell's?"

"The bottle caps had little rebus style puzzles in them," Heero said.

"Let me guess." Duo leaned forward slightly. "It was the first time you got drunk, because you kept wanting to open another bottle just for the puzzle."

Heero shrugged, an admission of guilt if he ever saw one, and Duo wanted to slap him on the back like they were old pals, maybe tease Heero some more, but he didn't. Not just because Heero was across the table from him and the logistically, he'd need to get up and walk around the table, effectively ruining the mood, but also because he didn't know how long Heero would continue to be this open with him.

He wondered if there was some deep dark reason why Heero didn't drink, or if he was just the type who wanted to be comfortable around someone before he allowed himself a drink. He had point blank refused the champagne that first night, but had consumed two and a half beers over the last couple of hours.

"How are you doing that so fast?" Duo asked, realizing that Heero had the puzzle more than half done.

"While you were busy trying to force two pieces together that were obviously a mismatch," Heero said, "I sifted through the obvious matches, then I started looking at the ones that didn't jump out as fitting anywhere. Sometimes no matter how you turn them, they still aren't the piece you need," he demonstrated with the piece in his hand, turning it this way and that. "But other times, you just have to look at the big picture," and he gestured to the photograph on the box, "and try something you overlooked the first time." 

He snapped together two more pieces, then joined them with three more already assembled pieces before attaching them to Duo's now completed left-hand side.

That action, combined with Heero's last words, seemed wrought with meaning, but Duo knew he wasn't ready to analyze that any more than he'd been to accept the foot massage from Heero.

"Hey," Duo said, "there's a moon visible in the sky overhead." He pointed to the picture on the box that was fast being replicated on the table in front of them.

Heero peered at the section he'd just assembled and noticed a faint sphere half-hidden by the cloud cover.

"Hmmm," he agreed.

"Were you born on a Monday?"

This time Heero looked at him. "No, on a Tuesday."

"Oh. I was born on a Thursday. Do you remember how that poem goes?"

"What poem?"

"The one that starts out...Monday's child is full of grace..."

Heero looked at him questioningly, and Duo shrugged. "Moon, Monday, what can I say, my mind makes some weird leaps of logic at times." He was surprised to see a slightly pained look cross Heero's face, just for a second, before that subtle smile teased the corners of his lips instead. God, Heero had a beautiful mouth.

Then Heero recited the poem. "Monday's child is fair of face; Tuesday's child is full of grace. Wednesday's child is full of woe; Thursday's child has far to go. Friday's child is loving and giving; Saturday's child works hard for a living. But the child that's born on the Sabbath Day, is bonny and blithe, and good and gay."

Duo was glad he was more than well aware that 'gay' meant something entirely different at the time the poem had been written, whenever that had been.

"You have a mind like a steel trap," he commented.

Heero shook his head. "It's just a matter of what appeals to you, or what triggers your recall, and the things that connect events in your memory to other memories you have. Like a continuous chain of things remembered."

"Think a full moon affects people?"

"The moon affects the tides," Heero pointed out. "Perhaps its gravitational pull is responsible for the 'studies' that have pointed to positive correlations between phases of the moon and incidences of crime and mental instability."

Heero seemed to exert a gravitational pull of his own, Duo thought, and the later the hour, the harder it was to resist, which made him double his efforts anew each time he felt the temptation to give in.

He couldn't explain his sudden bout of cold feet, considering that he should be enjoying every minute he had with Heero before they parted ways.

"Even the word 'lunacy' comes from the moon," Heero added, not seeming to realize that he was the only one assembling the jigsaw puzzle by then.

Duo reached for a few more Fritos and just watched Heero work. His hair was in his eyes again, but even the tousled bangs couldn't conceal the vivid blue the way the colored contacts did. Not when Heero would actually look at him, even if for a second.

Heero was well aware of everything Duo said and did. His body had been thrumming with nervous energy since Duo's foot had brushed against his half erect penis earlier.

Duo was distracted, and it hadn't escaped Heero's notice that he seemed shy and virginal all of a sudden, more so than he had that first night.

It bothered Heero. He didn't know what to do other than to remove Duo's clothing and show Duo with his body what the other man had come to mean to him.

It would only be a physical demonstration of attraction, perhaps dangerous in the potential for an ambiguous message being delivered, but Duo seemed to thrive on danger, the same way he did.

Duo hadn't sent him on his way earlier as he'd both hoped and feared he would, and now he had to see this through, until the final curtain call. He reached out and stopped Duo from putting a puzzle piece in his mouth instead of a corn chip.

Duo was slightly startled by the brief contact. "Ever take an astronomy class?" he asked, in what Heero assumed was an attempt to keep a conversation going. 'Gets kind of loud in here when you do nothing more than listen to your own thoughts,' Duo had told him earlier in the week. Obviously he'd been speaking from experience.

"Actually, yes, I did. Another of my UCLA electives," Heero said. "Mount Sierra wasn't big on liberal arts offerings. It's why they have a three year bachelor's program instead of four."

"Tell me three things you remember from that class."

Heero sat back in his chair and thought for a moment.

"One, constellations are nothing more than manmade mnemonic devices for finding certain stars. Two, one of the easiest constellations to find is the Big Dipper, because six of its seven stars are rather bright. And three, Libra is the only constellation of the Zodiac that represents an inanimate object, and it was the Romans who felt the need to symbolize justice with the scales of balance. Which is rather ironic since Libra is composed of the dimmest stars. Although, to be poetic, you could liken it to blind justice."

'Love and justice aren't the only things that are blind,' Meiran's voice echoed in Duo's mind.

"Are you a Libra?"

"I don't follow astrology," Heero said, neatly avoiding something personal once again, like narrowing down when his birthday might be.

"Why not?"

"I don't believe that my fate and personality were determined by the alignment of the stars and other celestial bodies at the moment I was born," Heero replied. It seemed as though most of his attention was back on the jigsaw puzzle.

What do you believe in, then? Duo wondered, although he wasn't sure if that question was meant for Heero or for himself.

Heero heard the question, as Duo hadn't yet realized he'd spoken it aloud. He looked up and gazed into Duo's eyes, seeing two tiny Heeros reflected back at him.

He used to have an answer to that question ready immediately, but after Kitty's death, it had become false, because he no longer held that same firm belief. But looking into Duo's eyes, and having spent the last week with him, he knew he would have no trouble saying it and meaning it, just like he had all those months ago.

"Myself."

~~~~~

"Let me guess," Meiran said as Wufei hung up the phone. "Whatever you did, didn't pan out the way you wanted it to."

"I'm not sure," Wufei said slowly. "I think it did, but..."

"Ah, Chang," she said brightly. "_Alea iacta est._"

"What?"

"It's Latin," she said, grinning at him.

"I KNOW it's Latin. What does it mean?"

"Not interested in where I picked up Latin from?"

The woman could be maddening at times. "Meiran. Where did you learn Latin?"

"I don't know Latin," she said. "I only know a few Latin phrases. Know who taught them to me?"

"Your bandesh instructor?"

"Funny, Chang. Watch it, or I'll use what I've learned to make sure you're disarmed, and you know how I would hate to deprive myself of such a fine weapon. I have always enjoyed the way you handle your 'sword' in combat."

"I don't know, Meiran," he said tiredly, not in the mood to flirt back.

She remained undeterred. "I'll give you another one. You should be well acquainted with it. _Ignoratio elenchi_."

A logical fallacy or irrelevant conclusion, Wufei mused with interest. She was right. He had been well acquainted with the term when he was still practicing law. It referred to an argument that was purportedly supposed to prove one thing, but instead proved something completely different and totally irrelevant.

He'd seen it in practice in the courtroom. Fortunately the prosecuting attorneys he'd faced had not been able to get the jury to fall for it, and those were the cases he'd felt best about winning, because it was clear there was little evidence in those situations that could possibly justify finding his clients guilty.

He remembered one prosecutor spending nearly half an hour expounding on the evils of unarmed assault, and how it affected the community, and yet, had no evidence to prove the defendant was guilty of such a heinous crime, as it had been painted by then. He'd been hard pressed to keep from looking smug as the Not Guilty verdict had been read to the courtroom.

"Hilde and I used to spend a lot of time together when you and Duo were working your magic," Meiran said. "I'll bet not even Duo knows she took Latin in college. She taught me quite a few phrases. _Alea iacta est,_" she repeated. "The die is cast."

tbc

~~~~~

Goebel Beer - out of production since 2000. The Goebel Brewing Company was sold to Strohs, which was then taken over by Pabst. Initially, I had pronounced it as "Go-bulls" but all my college chums who drank it by the case (and the cases were very nice wooden crates that worked wonderfully as end tables) pronounced it "Joe Bell's," so I bow to their "superior" knowledge. Kinda moot now that the beer isn't even in existence anymore. From a purely academic standpoint, of course.

La Guillotine Belgian Ale - 9% alcohol by volume. Same brewery (Huyghe Brewery) and same ABV for Delirium Tremens, which is just a gutsy name for a beer.

Arrogant Bastard Ale - Stone Brewing Company, 7.2% ABV.

Dead Horse India Pale Ale - McNeill's Brewery, 5.05% ABV.

Haffenreffer's Private Stock, or "malt liquor with the imported taste" - Miller Brewing Company, 6.87% ABV. There really are little rebus puzzles under the caps. Some say they get easier to solve the more Haff's you quaff, others say they become something out of Dante's Inferno. Except by then they aren't exactly that eloquent and are rather incapable of making cultural references to their particular circle of hell.

Bandesh - Ancient form of Indian fighting. The principle tenet is to defeat an armed enemy without killing him, upholding the Hindu belief in the sanctity of life. In bandesh competition, the winner is the one who disarms his opponent. "The techniques of bandesh were devised several hundred years ago to permit an armed warrior to use his weapon to immobilize the opponent by means of a joint lock or strangle." (courtesy David Mitchell's _The Complete Book of Martial Arts_, albeit once removed)

~~~~~

holly - wow, so many updates since my last attempt to include responses at the bottom of a chapter. Loved your reaction to Wufei's little bit of deviousness in chapter 42. Glad you like Meiran's opinion of Heero. What can I say, she's a smart cookie.

Lana - ah, exitus acta probat, indeed. Messy enough for you yet?

Kanon - I hope Heero's "fierce" reaction to Wufei makes sense now.

Mara202 - I'm working on it...quite a few scenes for the next chapter already written...just gotta pull 'em together...I'm very pleased you like the way I've written Heero. I do try to do his character justice!

Youkai Girl - wow! I am immensely flattered by your encouragement to write more. I doubt I'll ever be able to pull off another Edulcoration, but I have squeezed out a few one shot fics. Not sure how long it will take to finish this one, or how much time I'll have to consider another ongoing fic. I have an idea in mind, but I think I might try to write the entire thing and then post each chapter. This one was easy because it was a fusion and I knew where I was going once I modified the script for the G-boys. I will really miss writing it when all is said and done, despite my eagerness to finish it. I'm the same when when I read something...I am thrilled to get to the end, but I feel a sense of loss at the same time, because I'd really been enjoying the story!

CuriousDreamWeaver - well you've had a little of everything in the last few chapters. Your Quatre angst, a dose of Duo-Heero closeness, and a few things to move the plot along as well. Just wait until you see what I have in store for the next chapter...

Bane's Desire - thank you! That reminds me, I think I saw a new chapter posted to your fic that I haven't checked out yet.

Lrigelbbub - with luck, the next chapter will be posted no later than tomorrow...but I make no promises!

Kary-Asakura - I have a thing for lusty, sexy, sweet Heero, I guess! Overall, it seems everyone's reactions to Wufei's little ploy have either been angry disappointment or stunned admiration. No in between!

Hope I didn't miss anyone!

Hmmm, I have to be careful when replying because I've got part of the next chapter written, and I don't want to accidentally give it away! I'm glad you're all still with it. Thanks for taking the time to review and letting me know what you think. You don't need to do that, because I would continue to write the story anyway, but it is still a very welcome thing when I'm sitting here in a daze, knowing what I want to write but too tired to type anymore! So your encouragement is very much appreciated. Stay tuned for more...


	46. Revelations

****

The Edulcoration of Duo Maxwell - 46/?

Warnings: AU, yaoi, coarse language, violence, angst, cliffhangers, red herrings, mention of various vices, random bits of useless knowledge, nonexplicit male/male sex, excessive use of footnotes.

Spoilers: None for GW, and I'm now quite convinced almost nada for Pretty Woman.

Disclaimer: I don't really need to be Captain Obvious here, do I? No ownership, no money being made, yadda yadda. Written for fun, not profit.

Archived at: Atsui, Gundam Wing Diaries, The Forsaken, Sweetly Sour, Gundam Wing Addiction

__

Edulcorate (verb) - To free from harshness (as of attitude); to soften

* * *

****

Chapter 46 - Revelations

After the jigsaw was completed, Heero grabbed two bottles of water and Duo fetched the ice cream that had somewhere along the line become a milkshake. They headed out to the balcony via a different doorway than the one Heero always used.

Duo took the lid off the ice cream and they passed it back and forth, slurping the melted confection right from the carton.

Duo tried his hardest not to look at Heero's mouth as he licked the ice cream off his lips, and Heero spent just as much energy watching Duo's every move.

Duo made a face and set the carton on the table just inside the suite before joining Heero near the ledge again. He tilted his head back and took several long swallows of water to wash away the sticky sweet taste in his mouth.

He stared out at the cityscape when he was done, leaning the hand with the bottle against the ledge.

So much had happened in the past week. First Hilde had dumped him, then he'd stolen Wufei's car, and then he'd gotten lost on top of everything. He hated being lost. There was just something about not knowing where you were going that seemed to be the worst loss of control available.

Then he'd seen that shadow through the passenger window of the car, and that pale blond hair, and eyes that shone like the moon, reflecting the neon lights of nearby establishments.

He'd wanted the directions, sure, and he could have paid for them then, just gotten the directions. Verbally, without the personal guide service.

But if he'd done that, he'd never have experienced all the things he'd experienced this week. Not all of them were good things, but there were times, like most of today, like the last few nights, when life seemed almost perfect.

Except nothing in life was perfect, and sometimes you had to be careful what you wished for, because the reality was never like the fantasy.

* * *

Quatre knew that things were starting to fall apart around him, but as he'd realized when he was in a more sober state of mind, alcohol wasn't just liquid courage, it was liquid lack of good judgement. At the moment, he wasn't too concerned with that. It seemed the jig was up anyway.

So why wasn't Catherine hauling him out of there?

He tried to calm his nerves, and was tempted to sweet talk a drink out of one of the college students he was chatting with, but Trowa's words to him the night before rang in his ears. For some reason it seemed important to heed them.

OK. Calm down, Quatre. It certainly wasn't illegal to be the runaway son of a not-so-local wealthy businessman. It wasn't as if his family name was all that well known, either. They weren't exactly the Trumps nor was his father Bill Gates. He'd only concealed his identity in case anyone was looking for him, and to avoid the remote possibility that someone from back home was in LA and heard his name mentioned. At least if any familiar face showed up at the bar, he had an implicit run of the establishment, and could have easily hidden in the back room if necessary, but he had no control over people talking about him when he wasn't around to run damage control.

Most likely he was being paranoid, but then, Heero didn't even use a last name, so perhaps he wasn't being quite so ridiculous.

Of course, he knew almost nothing about Heero, so the reason for his roommate's desire for anonymity was still a mystery, just as the man himself was.

He refused to look toward the bar at Trowa, who was fast becoming just as much an enigma as Heero. Trowa had been a solid presence in his life since he'd first arrived in Los Angeles. Trowa had allowed him to use the phone, hadn't demanded to see any identification, hadn't asked any questions. Had just been there to listen to him. Had accepted with aplomb his impulsive adoption of Heero. Had displayed, just once in a while, a sarcastic sense of humor that still surprised Quatre, nearly a year later.

He hadn't felt like that around anyone since Iria, and he'd immediately felt like he was coming home, something that persisted whenever he walked through the front door. He had his sense of security, and then he'd found Heero, and thought he'd found love as well. Things couldn't have been more perfect, other than the job he had taken to make ends meet.

He felt a little bit sick to his stomach, and he suspected it was the thought of what he was doing at the moment. There was Trowa's sister, the cop, sitting half a room away, and here he was, trying to get one of the guys to come on to him so he could relieve them of some of their parents' hard earned money.

At present, he was simply laughing and joking with the other young men, acting like he was just another student postponing an inevitable cram session.

Maybe he should have taken Iria's advice and gone to college before taking on the business, but he had been afraid of facing others his age, knowing what he knew about himself. He was aware that many schools had gay organizations, and he'd already developed a knack for picking up on subtle cues in a person's body language. He doubted he'd ever mistakenly think someone was displaying an interest in him in a sexual way, so it wasn't that he feared getting into an awkward social situation with a heterosexual classmate. Perhaps the converse could be true, where he might miss out on an opportunity with someone who was just barely out of the closet, but he wouldn't have been attending college for the sole purpose of meeting someone with whom he could bump uglies.

He winced inwardly at the crude expression, never letting his smile falter. Seemed even his mind tended to run off at the mouth when he was drunk.

No. He wasn't drunk. He was just...less inhibited. It was Trowa who'd insisted he was drunk.

Less inhibited. That was a good thing. He leaned forward slightly as he laughed at one of the anecdotes a rather good-looking young man with short dark hair had regaled them with. With his vision still a bit blurry from the bourbon, he could almost picture Heero sitting there in his place, except that Heero never laughed.

He didn't notice that the other young man he'd thought the same thing about before hearing it with his own ears that morning was currently making a beeline for the table he was entertaining.

* * *

"What's that supposed to mean?" Wufei asked.

Meiran shook her head. "For a very smart man, sometimes you're incredibly blind. You and your partner."

"What about Duo?"

She laughed. "Duo is trying very hard to prove something. Actually, I think he's trying to disprove something. You didn't see it at the gallery that night?"

This time Wufei was the one shaking his head.

"Will you stop talking like a fortune cookie and tell me what the hell you know?"

"I don't know a thing," she said. "But some things aren't very hard to figure out, if you open your eyes and look at what's in front of you. You did something earlier today, something you weren't very proud of, but something you believed was the right thing to do.

"I am not pleased with you, but I trust your heart. You threw your die, and it didn't come up with the face you hoped for. Life goes on. Maybe it wasn't your place to know whatever it was you wanted to know. It had to do with Duo, didn't it?"

"How did you know that?"

She laughed again, a deep rich sound. "Wufei, you left here shortly after you and I talked about Duo and Hilde and Heero. It was a simple matter to draw a line from Point A to Point B. Now stop worrying about your business partner and spend some time with your life partner."

"But what about that 'I'll tell you tomorrow' comment?"

She patted him lightly on the cheek. "Let's just say that I see a logical outcome based on events leading up to this point. Now give me your cell phone."

"I can't! I told Duo I'd leave it on. And what if that damned Peacecraft calls?"

She gave him the most lascivious smile he'd ever seen. "So we'll put it on vibrate. Now MOVE, Chang. Something about driving a car that costs more than the budget required to make the Thriller video..." she put a hand to her chest and gave a theatrical moan.

Even references to fading pop stars and his wife's irritating blend of point blank bluntness and vague references couldn't make him refuse such an invitation.

* * *

Heero looked at Duo, the sun gleaming off his hair, making it seem like burnt gold, and again the image of a Greek god flitted through his mind.

But which god?

Zeus was too obvious. Although he could see Duo as the ruling monarch of Olympus, he couldn't picture him as being single-minded of purpose when it came to seduction.

Ares? Perhaps, but Heero thought the personality of the god of war was a bit too exaggerated for someone like Duo. He was far more complex than that.

Duo's fiery braid made Heero picture him as Apollo, driving the chariot across the sky every morning. The sun god. Hmm. Closer, but still, not quite close enough.

There were the parts of Duo that weren't so obvious. A little darkness, like Hades. The image of Duo dragging a reluctant Persephone to the underworld just didn't sit right with him, either.

It was his dual nature that made this little mental exercise rather complicated. He was more like the Roman Janus, the god of beginnings and endings. Or perhaps...

"Dionysus."

Duo's reaction was immediate. He'd turned his body half way around toward Heero, and his eyes were blazing.

"How did you know that?"

Heero took half a step back and blinked. "Excuse me?"

"My name. Where did you hear it?"

Heero didn't want to appear stupid, but it took him a moment to process what he'd just been told.

"Your name is Dionysus?"

Duo winced slightly. "I go by Duo, now. Dion sounds...too feminine for my tastes. Can't stop thinking of Ms. Warwick and her psychic friends when I hear it, either." He shook his head. "Seems mom didn't realize she'd picked the wrong name out of the baby book until it was too late. I'm sure she was less than fond of the pagan influence after the drugs wore off. Probably figured that was the first place she'd gone wrong with me." He set down the water bottle on the ground next to him and turned back to the view of the city below.

Dionysus. It was...an incredibly perfect name for him. The god of wine and revelry, one who brought either bliss or wrought destruction.

Joyous and vibrant. Dark and deadly.

Life and death.

Duo.

If Heero were the type to indulge in physical displays of affection, he might have given in to the temptation to hug Duo in that moment, but as Icarus had learned the hard way, giving in to one's urges could sometimes end in disaster.

Duo's rigid posture indicated that Heero had inadvertently hit a nerve.

"No one has called me that in years," Duo said, almost to himself. His arms were crossed in front of him, but his hands weren't stuffed under his armpits. Instead, they were practically gripping his shoulders, making it appear that he was suffering a chill.

Heero felt that they were standing on the edge of a cliff, but he wasn't sure which of them was going to lose his footing first.

The most common piece of advice given, when working at a great height, was 'don't look down.'

The question was, did Heero want to look down, or look up? Or maybe neither, instead, looking ahead? He wondered if he would be more likely to fall, or merely be carried along by the wind, with no control over his direction or destination.

When Duo finally spoke, Heero was surprised at the seeming change in subject.

"Remember that Enzo?" Duo asked. "As if anyone could forget a car like that, eh? I stole it. I know that you know I did. Haven't hotwired anything in a good number of years, but cars really haven't changed that much, no matter how good their security systems are."

His posture relaxed a tiny bit, but his eyes continued to be fixed on some point in the distance. Heero slowly moved toward the ledge until he was standing to Duo's right, but leaving several feet between them. He half sat, half leaned against the ledge. He shoved his hands into his pockets and stared at the intricate mosaic design on the tiled floor when Duo resumed speaking.

"I hotwired a really nice Mustang once. Figured it belonged to some spoiled rich kid and I had to work fast. Got a little sloppy in my haste, and the owner showed up while I was still wedged between the door and the seat. Hadn't expected to see this older, distinguished looking gentleman standing there with the keys in one hand and a paper sack in the other. He looked as surprised as I felt, but I could see there was a sense of disappointment in his eyes. He dropped the bag, and his hand clamped down on me before I could get away. I was ready to kick him where it counted to get him to let go, and then he asked me one question. 'Why?'"

He glanced at Heero to see if he was still paying attention, and continued.

"To make a long story short, I reminded him of his late grandson. Terrible thing when you outlive your kids, let alone your grandkids. He wanted to make a difference to some poor misguided youth. I wanted to tell him he was a complete sap. Next thing I know, a scholarship was set up for me. Mom got the notification, I was enrolled in a private school, and off I went.

"Was tempted lots of times to go back to the thrill of stealing, but I somehow knew that he'd be let down, somehow, even though I never saw him again."

He looked at Heero, waiting for a reaction.

It wasn't what he expected.

"I see," Heero said, looking over at Duo. "So at what point did your fairy godmother lead you down the yellow brick rose to Narnia, where you defeated the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, single-handedly saving mankind from destruction before returning to Mount Olympus?"

Duo gaped at him for a moment, then started to laugh, a deep down belly laugh.

"My God, Heero, you are priceless, you really are. Laid it on a bit thick, did I?"

"Hmmm."

"I did say you couldn't con a con, didn't I?" Duo laughed again, before a look of seriousness overlaid his mirth. "The truth isn't as glamorous."

Duo seemed to need a change of scenery, and he pushed away from the ledge and turned the corner of the wrap-around balcony so that Wilshire Boulevard was visible below. It was the same section of the balcony that Heero favored. They both resumed their earlier positions, with Duo facing the city and Heero ostensibly studying the floor, although he kept peering at Duo from beneath his bangs.

"That story isn't entirely false," Duo said. "The best lies have a grain of truth in them. Flesh 'em out with a few details, and you have a believable whopper, most of the time. I did get caught, but not quite that way. But first I have to tell you about my mother."

Duo took a deep breath, then continued.

"Typical single mom raising a child in a low-income, mixed race neighborhood. A middle-aged lady on permanent disability lived next door. Of course at the time, she seemed ancient. She went by the name of Betty, although I can't picture a person who looked less like a Betty than she did. Don't know if it was her real name, but she'd always just been Betty to me.

"I can still picture her hair - it was the thickest, darkest hair I'd ever seen, not a trace of gray like my mom's. Once told her that I thought a bird might be living in it. She laughed, and I thought it was the best sound I'd ever heard. She was half Nigerian, half Cherokee or something like that. I know she had told me at one time, because I'd asked. She always had an answer for me, no matter what the question was. I liked that about her.

"She'd check up on me now and then, and sometimes I'd go over there for a snack or something after school, otherwise I was pretty much a latchkey kid from probably Day One. My mom...she was, I think, a God-fearing woman at one time, and she tried to set the best example of good behavior. She loved me. I know she did. But she had to work. Food didn't appear on the table through the work of elves, like that story about the shoemaker. She didn't ask Betty to babysit, really, because she'd have felt obligated to pay her. I think she was relieved to find out I had a keeper of sorts, at least until I got to middle school. Then the apartment we lived in got sold, and we had to move. Another low-income housing development, same school district, at least, but no Betty.

"Mom's commute was quite a bit longer after that, and she was working longer hours, too. Didn't have much of an education herself - I doubt she ever graduated high school. Never knew my dad. Not sure my mom even knew who he was, although I preferred thinking she did, because she didn't seem the type to give it up for someone whose name she didn't even know. I never allowed myself that fantasy that they'd been so in love, she couldn't find anyone else to replace him in her heart. Didn't allow myself to pretend that he'd just gone off to work one day and gotten into a car accident. Just assumed there never was a father involved, except for maybe one night, just enough to make the necessary sperm deposit in the vaginal vault.

"She was always so tired. She'd come in hours after I got home from school. Checked that my homework was done, asked if I'd had supper, then she'd eat her own dinner and go to bed. Repeat the next day. Day in, day out. I had no idea what she even did for a living. By the time the weekend rolled around, she'd be so tired she spent half of it sleeping. We split the chores, and she'd nag me about any school assignments I had, especially long-term projects. She wanted to help me with them, I think, but anything that I had trouble with was well beyond her scope of ability.

"Then one day she noticed I'd gotten a D in home economics. A damned D, in fucking home ec. She was furious. Wanted to know what I had been doing, had I been slacking off, didn't I know that these were skills I'd need some day...hell, she spent a good hour making me feel like I'd slept through the entire school year.

"Know something? It was the most time she'd ever spent talking to me."

Duo laughed, the sound harsh to Heero's ears.

"Didn't take me long to realize that if I did something wrong, she'd pay attention to me. I was a poster child for 'any attention is still attention' and it disgusted me, but I still craved it. Eventually she seemed to expect me to get crappy grades, stopped caring so much."

And once he'd had a taste of her attention, he couldn't go back to how it had been.

"So I had to up the stakes. Started getting into more trouble. Shoplifting, pickpocketing. Never got caught, but I'd make sure she'd see that I was coming home with stuff I had no way of paying for. Sometimes I'd bring home a car just for the sole purpose of parking it in front of the house shortly before she got home, then later I'd move it to some parking lot afterwards. She was all over me again with how I must be either stealing or dealing. Dealing! For cryin' out loud, I thought she knew me better than that."

He laughed again.

"So there I was, doing more and more just for the pleasure of her raking me over the coals verbally. Still was attention, wasn't it?"

A deep breath.

"I think she tried, once, to save me, in her own way. Dragged me to a psychologist. Actually an LCSW. A 'licensed clinical social worker,'" Duo made quotation gestures with his fingers, the same way Trowa often did. The unexpected mental comparison almost made Heero miss Duo's next words.

"She was just one of those community do-gooders who did nothing more than tell my mom that I wasn't suffering from either conduct disorder or ODD. Said I just needed some TLC and sent us on our merry way. They do love their acronyms, these drive-thru shrinks. Wouldn't have been surprised if she'd pinched me on the cheek and told me to buck up, better days were coming.

"I think my mom was pissed, then, because she'd wasted her hard-earned money only to find out there was nothing clinically wrong with me. Like I'd invalidated her parenting ability by being too normal, and yet was still a punk ass JD. After that, I think I was more interested in keeping her in the dark than getting her attention. We were involved in a power struggle, but I didn't see it then."

Duo sighed. His hands reached for the end of his braid and held it in one hand while brushing the tip of it in the palm of the other.

"Then I was offered that damn joint. It was just marijuana, ya know? Nothing too heavy, right? I looked at it like it was the fucking Holy Grail, and I could almost taste it - the escape it offered me, no matter how brief. Maybe my mom would be mad, maybe she wouldn't, but I could see myself simply...not...caring."

Heero saw Duo's shoulders shake. His bitter laughter was silent this time.

"And the funniest thing? I realized that right there was a line I just wasn't going to cross. Felt pretty proud of myself, facing temptation like that and turning it down. I just. Said. No." A shake of Duo's head. "And got busted anyway. Judged by the company you keep and all. Let me tell you, that cop that had me collared was scary as hell. This wasn't my mom, this was real authority.

"I started to ramble, told him I hadn't touched it, even though I'd wanted to, then I realized it wasn't gonna make no difference none, and shut the hell up. His grip on my shoulder was so tight, I swear I thought he was going to break something. Seemed like we stayed like that forever, but couldn't have been more than a few seconds. He looked me right in the eyes, shook his head, swore under his breath about stupid gut instincts and being too soft for his own good. Next thing I know, his fingers loosened just enough to let me pull away, and I took off like a shot. Heard him swear loudly and tell someone, most likely his partner, that one of 'em got away. Gave a description of one of the kids I'd seen smoking behind the school. The guy was sharp. Couldn't for the life of me figure out what the hell he'd been thinking to let me go like that.

"But still, I hadn't given into the urge to take that first hit. I still was in control of my decisions. Figured it was time for a fresh start. Maybe.

"Got home that night, and even though I'd gotten off scot-free, as it were, my mom had been watching the news earlier, and lo and behold, local drug bust involving area teens was one of the highlights. Seems I didn't need to actually get caught or succumb to the lure of drugs to land myself in a heap of trouble. She automatically assumed that I'd been involved. And I had, but not in the way she thought."

Duo wiped a hand across his face, and his next words were slightly muffled for a moment, but not so much that Heero didn't notice that Duo sounded much younger, more vulnerable. His voice held a hint of astonishment as well.

"It _HURT_. For the first time, that less than positive attention _hurt_, Heero. She told me that if she hadn't given birth to me, she'd not have believed I was her son. Then I told her that maybe if we had a little more money, I wouldn't need to go out and earn it in my own way. Which was so damn far from the truth, it wasn't funny.

"And the next week she started working a second job."

That's when I realized just how much I'd been manipulating her all along, Duo thought.

Kind words, affection - none of that had ever existed. She cared, but she assumed that she didn't need to respond to anything positive. If it ain't broke, don't fix it - that was her parenting style. She related more to the ugly side of life. She wanted to do right by him, so she spent more and more time away from him, the two of them virtually strangers. If she could have managed it financially, he suspected she'd have tried sending him to military school as well, writing him off as completely as she could and leaving it to someone else to clean up the mess that she once considered a son.

At one point, she'd been so disgusted with him after an argument, especially riled by his cocky smile and smug attitude, knowing that he'd gotten under her skin, that she'd thrown up her hands and told him he was just like his father. The two of them were so surprised by that comment, they stared at each other for close to two-and-a-half minutes before she realized her arms were still upraised and she slowly lowered them. Just before she turned away, putting the lid back on that subject, he thought he saw a flash of pain so deep it made his knees weak. It was the only time he'd given the mysterious donor of half his chromosomal make-up more than a passing thought. Apparently his father hadn't exactly been Mr. Upstanding Citizen, but more than that, his mother still harbored feelings for the man.

On top of the hurt Duo had buried deep inside him, he had confusion to add to the mix. How could she harbor such strong feelings for someone she obviously hated? How involved had they been before she got pregnant?

It was almost too much. He'd wanted to run away on numerous occasions, but he knew that wouldn't accomplish anything. His mother was working two jobs, might as well take advantage of that, right? He was practical, if nothing else.

One morning he woke up and realized it was up to him to escape the fate of his parents. He buckled down and improved his grades. Did the occasional volunteer work at a local youth organization. He didn't work with the kids, but he did odd jobs; painting, moving donated furniture into the lounge, mowing the lawn. He didn't do it for altruistic reasons; he only wanted the community service brownie points that so impressed most colleges. His goal became obtaining a full scholarship to any school that would take him, just so he could get the hell out of Dodge and not look back.

He didn't say any of this to Heero, just stood there, realizing it had been years since he'd examined the motives behind many of his actions now. He didn't like what he saw.

"Ya know, I've never told that to anyone," he said softly.

Heero yearned to reach out and touch Duo's shoulder, perhaps give in to that earlier urge to embrace him. Then Duo's voice took on a cold, impersonal tone.

"But I guess it doesn't much matter, considering that our business is concluded as of tomorrow."

Heero said nothing in response, unable to do anything other than memorize the pattern of tiles underfoot and give a passing thought to the feeling that a herd of elephants had just trampled through his ribcage.

* * *

A hand clamped on Quatre's shoulder, and his blood turned to ice.

"Excuse us, gentlemen," he said, his voice tight. It was still Trowa's soft modulated tone, but it was clear he was a tiny bit agitated.

Two of the college boys looked at Trowa's hand on Quatre's shoulder and elbowed each other, snickering. Quatre's face flamed, and he was suddenly very angry at Trowa for ruining what had been an enjoyable moment, even if it was clear at this point that he wouldn't have talked any of them into some 'quality time' in the bathroom. He really wouldn't have gone through with it anyway, not with a cop sitting at the bar, off duty or not. Not with the memory of Trowa's look of disapproval, something he hadn't seen in the entire time they'd known each other - until just this week.

He had no time to continue that line of thought, because Trowa was propelling him away from that table.

And right into the restroom.

As Trowa shut - and locked - the door behind him, Quatre laughed. "I should warn you, I don't give freebies to friends," he said with a smirk.

Trowa's eyes darkened, and Quatre realized his friend was clenching his teeth as well. He couldn't help the way his mouth ran off when he drank. Which was Trowa's fault in the first place, he reminded himself.

"It was really good bourbon," he said, crossing his arms and leaning back against one of the sinks. "Although I think I might have preferred tequila. Maybe next time."

"Shut up," Trowa said, causing Quatre's mouth to drop open. "Just...just shut up for once, Quatre."

Trowa stood there, his arms at his sides, and his fists clenching slightly the way Heero's did at times. The only thing missing was the way Heero would run a hand through his hair when he was feeling particularly frustrated.

He wondered what it would feel like to run his fingers through Trowa's hair, with those impossibly long bangs...

Impossibly long bangs. Something stirred in his memory, but he brushed it aside, waiting with bated breath for Trowa to say something. He wasn't going to. Trowa had told him to shut up. The silence was killing him, though.

"You think you're the only one with problems, don't you, Quatre?"

"No," Quatre shook his head. "No, I-"

"I said to shut up," Trowa warned. "Don't say anything until I'm done. Not a word, so help me, Quatre, not a word."

The quiet tone of voice was laced with repressed emotion, something Quatre had only heard in Heero's voice that first night, and then not ever again.

"Some things aren't that hard to figure out, Quatre, not if you open your fucking eyes and look at what's in front of you," he began. He actually looked at Quatre almost accusingly. "How old are you, Quatre?"

Quatre assumed that Trowa wanted him to answer, despite his warning to keep his mouth shut, but he still couldn't answer. "I - I..."

"I thought so." Trowa raised a hand to his face, and Quatre thought that this time he was going to run his fingers through that hair. Had an odd desire to see him do so, but instead, Trowa just covered his eyes for a moment before lowering his hand again.

"Were you harassed, Quatre? Were you persecuted for being who you are? Did your family shun you for something you had no control over?"

Quatre remained silent, but he thought about it. His father, as far as he knew, had no idea his only son was a homosexual. Almira didn't know either, but her opinion of gays was pretty obvious. Iria seemed tolerant of everyone.

He'd taken off in an attempt to be true to himself, but had taken the easy way out. And ended up selling himself instead. It had been a selfish thing, as if to say, hey, Dad, I'm not just gay, I'm a gay whore. How do you like me now?

"Don't ask, don't tell, don't harass, don't pursue," Trowa said. "What a crock of shit. If you think that bill did anything to protect homosexuals enrolled in the military, you're sadly mistaken. It made it worse. It made people angry that they could be serving alongside someone who might be checking them out. As if all men in the armed forces spent their entire time ogling the few females that were enrolled right alongside them. A lot of heterosexuals ended up being discharged as well."

Quatre stared at him. He'd never given any thought to Trowa's background before. He'd always just been there, the friendly bartender who gave him a smile every day. Not a very big one, but an honest one. He was actually much more giving of smiles than Heero was, but Quatre assumed Trowa knew that people weren't comfortable around a scowling bartender.

"Think it's tough facing your family?" Trowa continued. "Try facing an entire battalion of Recon Marines who don't think you were qualified for the elite Special Forces. Eight-six of us were chosen for the one-year trial. The Marines were going to have their own Special Forces, like the Green Berets or the Navy SEALs. I could have been part of that. I WAS part of that. And then I made the mistake of failing to go along with my comrades on something trivial." He sneered at the word 'comrades.'

"I learned a long time ago that you kept yourself out of trouble by keeping your nose clean and letting others remain responsible for their own actions. In the battlefield, it's one thing. You work as a team, you did your best to never leave a man behind, but if you had to, you cut your losses. Everything, even life, had a cost-benefit analysis. When it came to someone's personal life, I adhered to a live and let live policy. But I forgot that envy and resentment are dangerous bedfellows. The fact that I got picked meant someone else did not."

Quatre was afraid to breathe too loudly.

"I made it, Quatre. I passed all the tests. The written ones. The physical ones. I was in. Then we had that night out to celebrate the success of a recent mission. I went with them, so caught up was I in the excitement of being accepted into the program. Stupid," he said. "Stupid, idiotic thing to do. They were pissed at one of the recons who had been accepted into the program. They made some passing remarks that the guy was probably gay, because he didn't have a girlfriend. Half of us didn't," Trowa said. "Some of us enrolled right out of high school, and even if you had one at the time you enlisted, the physical distance has ended more than one relationship. Especially when you're young," he looked at Quatre meaningfully.

"The guy was also slender, like Heero, and he was incredibly soft spoken. Not many Marines have cultured voices, but it was just the way he talked. Unlike me, he talked a lot, and was an all around friendly guy. I suppose that I was the only one who didn't actively state an opinion one way or another. I didn't think much of it. I just filed it away in the back of my mind, that my cohorts were obviously the type to jump to conclusions, and that I was damn glad they weren't going to be part of the Marine Corps Special Operations Command Detachment One."

He sighed. "Know what the motto of the Recon Marines is?" Quatre shook his head. "Swift, silent, deadly. Yeah, amazing how GHB is like that. But why would I expect someone to slip it into my drink before it got from the bar to the table? No one would have any reason to do so. It's a date rape drug, usually, but people still take it intentionally as well. Although ecstasy use was on the rise in our ranks, GHB was still cropping up here and there.

"The funny thing about GHB is that it's a controlled substance with an approved medical use. Meaning it's legal to possess it under certain circumstances. There's a drug called Xyrem," Trowa said, "and it treats narcolepsy when coupled with cataplexy. Know what that is?"

Quatre shook his head mutely.

"It's a weakening of muscle tone, in a way. Usually it's triggered by some sort of heightened emotional response. Laughter, anger, excitement. The body can become paralyzed temporarily. Xyrem is only medication approved by the FDA for use in patients with narcolepsy and cataplexy, and because of the active ingredient, gamma-hydroxybutyrate, it is tightly controlled. Giving it to someone else can have grave consequences, with both state and federal law.

"Of course, no one with those medical conditions would be allowed in the military, but if you knew someone who was narcoleptic, perhaps you could sneak some from them. Sure, you'd leave them with the burden of explaining why your highly controlled prescription drug seemed to come up short a few pills, but hey, there are casualties in any war.

"I'm only conjecturing at this point," Trowa said, "but I heard enough while I was waiting for them to come back with my blood test results."

Quatre blinked. Surely Trowa did not mean to skip all the in between parts, leaving him to attempt to fill in the blanks himself!

He didn't. After a moment, Trowa began again.

"I do know this. Someone spiked my drink, Quatre. Men who had worked with me, trained with me, gone into combat with me. The Recons...silent, swift, and deadly. I was so fucking proud of that," he said, his voice filled with anger and a bit of loss. "And I was excited as all hell to be one of the few who was good enough for the pilot program. Except someone was apparently waiting for an opportunity, and having one of the Special Operations Command being questioned for illegal drug use was one way of accomplishing that, I suppose.

"I don't know if it was premeditated, or if, of the two of us in our battalion who were chosen for that group, I was picked randomly, but I think that my failing to agree with the rest of them sealed my fate. When you're going to do something that you know is wrong, morally and ethically, sometimes you still suffer a twinge of conscience. What better way to justify it to yourself? Just fabricate a trumped up case against someone who had watched your back in battle just because you decided, based on a complete lack of evidence, that he was homosexual, and therefore had no right being chosen for such an elite honor? Rationalization is a powerful defense mechanism, but when it's turned outwards, logic is not its traveling companion."

He rubbed at his temples again with his right hand.

"After that, I just gave up. There was no way I could ever trust any of them again. Someone who I thought would do anything short of putting his life on the line for me had effectively killed my credibility as a soldier. Never again," he said. "Never again was I going to put my faith in anyone but myself. I accepted a general discharge, Quatre."

His eyes bored holes into Quatre's skull. "A GENERAL discharge. Know what that means? Not an honorable discharge, although thankfully not a dishonorable one, either. A 'general' discharge. It was as ambiguous as they came. But it avoided the pain of being formally brought up on charges, and I was lucky to be given the option. The Marine Corps could have tried to come down hard on me, but I think they wanted to avoid anything that would put a blot on the escutcheon of the newly formed Special Operations.

"And even if I'd been cleared, I knew that they had already decided I didn't belong, and I could see them starting rumors about my sexual preferences, even though I was one of the few practicing abstinence at the time. That's why that don't ask, don't tell bill is a joke. No one has to ask. They just have to speculate. I told you that a few straights were discharged. That's a fact."

His eyes, which had looked like green flames a moment ago, now had faded slightly, and seemed more like emeralds. Quatre wondered why he'd never noticed the intensity in Trowa's eyes. Perhaps it was because this was the first time he was allowed to see so much emotion.

Usually he could tell how someone was feeling, using their body language and his oft-unpredictable, sporadic empathic abilities. Heero often shuttered his emotions from himself, but he had his own set of 'tells' at times. It was as if the more he closed himself off, the more turbulent his thoughts would be if he allowed them free rein. Therefore Heero with a rigid posture meant he was fighting something extremely disturbing to him. At least that's what it meant around Quatre. Around others, it probably meant he was trying not to give into the urge to beat the shit out of them.

But Trowa had seemed a blank slate. A friendly face, but one that offered little in return as far as what went on behind those green depths.

He'd known Trowa for nearly a year, but had never really thought of what made him tick. He was just always there.

Quatre almost started when Trowa began speaking again, and it was eerie the way Trowa's words seemed to overlap his own thoughts.

"I know that you hate when people look at you and assume you're innocent, and naïve, and safe. It's the safe part that kills you, doesn't it? That no one fears being around you, no one assumes you will make them lose control when you're fucking them. Even Heero finds you safe to be around, and it eats you up inside to know he doesn't feel for you the same way you feel for him. Being safe isn't very appealing. You want danger, and want to be dangerous. It's what draws you to Heero. Part of you thinks you deserve it, and part of you wants to take it and mold it into something else. Well, Quatre, you can't have it both ways."

"You don't know anything about me," Quatre said, forgetting his promise to be quiet and needing to redirect his wayward thoughts. "Or what I think, or how I feel."

Trowa reached over and grasped him by both shoulders, and Quatre thought for a moment that he was going to be shaken until his teeth rattled, but all that happened was Trowa's hands tightened their grip for a moment.

At that brief moment of contact, suddenly Quatre KNEW. He felt like a blindfold had been lifted, but by then, Trowa's eyes were once again two blazing flames, like demon fire in a fantasy novel.

Those hellfire orbs flicked down to his lips for a second before returning to his eyes, and then Quatre realized Trowa was shoving him away roughly.

"It isn't always about you!"

Trowa practically wrenched the doorknob loose as he tried to open it without unlocking it first. Quatre watched him go, stunned by his friend's loss of composure and the weight of the words he'd spewed.

He felt like he'd just been through an intense battle, intact but not unscathed. At the same time, he was still hopelessly adrift, like an aluminum can in a tidal wave, breaking the surface now and then before the water washed over him once again, and during it all, constantly spinning in whatever direction the restless tide took him.

He pushed himself away from the wall.

Trowa was digging in his pocket for something when Quatre emerged from the restroom.

"Cathy, you're off duty tomorrow, right?" he called to the woman who had taken his place behind the bar.

"Yup."

He tossed her a set of keys, which she deftly caught with one hand.

"Lock up for me."

And he stormed out of the bar, leaving Quatre staring at the open door.

Cathy looked at the blond man and shook her head.

Quatre reached out one hand as if to stop Trowa, even though it was far too late for that. He walked over to the bar and sat down heavily, ignoring the glare he was getting from the woman. He almost wished she'd arrest him, or at least throw him out, for being underaged and in a bar.

Just before Trowa left, Quatre had recognized the exact color of his eyes.

They were the same shade as the turf-type tall fescue grass his father had planted around their estate.

* * *

Duo had taken a shower shortly after their discussion on the balcony. He'd needed to get away from the war of emotions that little revelation had caused.

He was so damn tired. He felt weary, all the way to his soul. He picked up the wide toothed comb and sat on the bed, pulling his wet hair around in front. He set the hair tie on the nightstand next to him before pulling the comb through the long strands.

He loved the way his hair felt when it was still wet. It was still smooth, reborn, even. Then it dried and the years of exposure to sun and wind became apparent. He was sure it would look a complete mess if he didn't use the best products on the market. They were expensive, but they worked. He'd started growing his hair just to spite his mother, who associated long hair with undisciplined youth. In a way, she'd been right.

He hadn't even thought of his mother in years, and yet this past week he found himself thinking of how she'd figure he was getting nothing more or less than he deserved. He had done what he'd set out to do. Had gotten that education, had turned the odds in his favor. Maybe he wasn't breaking the law anymore, but the same skills that made him a good thief easily applied to being a shark in the business world.

He didn't believe in astrology anymore than Heero did, but he sure as hell had to thank someone or something for his crossing paths with Meiran Long that day. He doubted he'd have ever approached Wufei otherwise, and the two of them were an almost unbeatable team.

His hand slowed in its brushing motion as his eyes drifted shut.

Heero joined him a few minutes later. He'd collected their empty water bottles and returned to the balcony to give Duo some time to himself. He'd seemed to need it, and Heero was still feeling a bit off kilter after Duo's last words. Neither of them had said a word since then.

He paused in the doorway to the bedroom, and saw that a large portion of Duo's hair was over one shoulder. He'd fallen asleep while combing it.

Heero was afraid to approach him, as if he was an apparition that would disappear if he got too close. There was something about Duo's hair being unbound that made him look younger. He finally stepped closer and reached for the comb in Duo's lax fingers. The illusion of youth was marred by the slight wrinkles in the corners of Duo's eyes. He imagined Duo was in his mid to late twenties, just as he was, but it seemed the two of them had lived a lifetime in such a short period of time.

He chided himself for being so melodramatic, and quietly slipped into bed next to Duo. He wanted to reach over and touch the slumbering man, but he was afraid that their time together had already ended.

He turned his back to the wall, unable to look at Duo for fear of reaching toward him in his sleep.

After a couple of hours, he realized how useless that fear had been, because he was no closer to sleep than he'd been when he slipped under the covers. He gave up and turned back around, propping himself up on one elbow.

He watched Duo as he slept, the gentle rise and fall of his chest with each breath. His eyes traveled over the unbound hair, the hair that up until now he'd only seen tied in a neat braid. He felt a twinge of guilt that Duo had been so exhausted that he'd fallen asleep before braiding his hair. It was going to be difficult to brush all the tangles out in the morning, Heero thought with a smile.

If things were already over, then it wouldn't matter much what he did at this point, he decided. His hand reached out to brush some of the loose hair away from Duo's face. His fingers were less than an inch from their destination when he was bitten by the sharp fangs of longing. He swallowed a cry and hurriedly got off the bed. He needed to get some air.

He was standing on the balcony, his gaze fixed on the distant stars, when Duo found him moments later. Duo looked at Heero, who was now dressed in nothing more than the hotel pajama bottoms. They were a bit too long for Heero, and therefore the backside of the pant legs were under his heels. He looked a bit like a little boy who hadn't yet grown into his PJs.

Heero wanted to apologize for waking Duo, but was afraid of speaking, of saying something he might regret.

"She was always so impulsive," he heard himself say. "When she was five, she told me she was going to marry me someday." So much for not saying something he'd regret. Maybe it was time he shared something with Duo. Quid pro quo. And it was a much safer topic than the one that had been plaguing him all day.

Duo was shocked to hear the achingly sad voice coming from him, and he felt an answering pang at Heero's words. This had to be the friend who, he assumed, had suffered a fatal gunshot wound at some point. He hadn't expected to hear that marriage was part of the equation.

"God, she was a brat," Heero said, his voice tight. "I was fascinated by her from the start. She was the youngest out of seven at the time, and I was an only child. Even back then, I think, I wanted to protect her."

He didn't offer anymore.

"Did you love her?" Duo asked quietly, knowing that this woman was the key to unlocking Heero's secrets, and wondering why it should matter this late in the game.

Heero continued staring out at the vast expanse of sky. It seemed a ridiculous question, considering the depth of emotion he had for her, but he'd already realized he had loved her. He hadn't just wanted to protect her or spend time with her, but had actually loved her. It seemed such an insufficient word to describe what he was feeling. That was what Quatre had seen in him, something that had been there all along. His heart. It felt as if something that had been tightly wound in the deepest recesses of his soul was starting to unravel with the sudden knowledge of what it was that he'd been fighting against all week.

Kitty had encouraged him to follow his emotions without saying a word. It was when he'd stopped following that unspoken advice when things had gone so horribly wrong.

He hadn't wanted to stay behind after that last job, but he'd felt everyone else had someone to go home to. Although his heart had told him to turn it down so he could take care of the mess he'd left of things between him and Kitty, he'd agreed to serve in a role that was little more than a glorified bodyguard, which wasn't in his job description. Not like that. If he'd turned it down, he'd have been home before she ever stopped at that Exxon station.

"Did you know the Colombia has the highest murder rate in the world? In the world. Eight times that of the United States," he said quietly. If her father hadn't emigrated to the United States, she might still be alive.

If they'd stayed in Barranquilla, he'd never have met her.

He'd thought at times she was center of his universe but realized if that were really true, he'd never have left. Maybe he could rationalize his career choice that way, but honestly it had just been something he personally felt very strongly about. Kitty would have been the first to point that out.

It wasn't losing Kitty that was sending the knife through his heart.

Duo came up behind him and wrapped his right arm around Heero's chest, his left hand dropping to Heero's hip as he rested his chin on Heero's shoulder, saying nothing. Despite the warmth of the body behind him, Heero shivered with each exhalation of Duo's breath on his skin. Heero pressed back against Duo, and they stood like that for a while, before he felt the awakening of Duo's desire. Duo's left hand slid up his side, fingers dancing as they passed his ribcage, and brushing his neck with the back of his hand before tangling in his hair. Heero turned his head to face Duo at that awkward angle, and swallowed the lump that had been building in his throat before closing his eyes and parting his lips slightly.

Duo's breath caught in his throat as he recognized the invitation. It took him several seconds for it to register, because he'd long since given up on it. Heero's breath hitched painfully, and he realized that he might never get this invitation again. He took his time closing the distance to Heero's mouth. Their lips touched tentatively, then he slid his eyes closed as he ran his tongue along Heero's bottom lip. Heero's lips were slightly chapped from the wind, and not quite as soft as Duo had imagined, but the reality was that Heero was no longer denying him. There was no flavored lip-gloss interfering with Heero's taste, no perfume to mask his scent. Heero's mouth opened beneath his, and Duo slid his tongue inside the warm cavern, feeling as if he'd breached an impenetrable wall. A wave of pure warmth flowed through him, something almost as frightening in its intensity as in its unfamiliarity.

Heero welcomed the invasion. He'd never been one for French kissing, as it had seemed more work and little pleasure. None of the women he'd kissed had ever tried to put their tongue in his mouth, and he'd been rather turned off to the whole kissing thing after he'd botched his own attempt.

Duo knew how to kiss. Heero wondered if it was something he'd just always been good at, and then he didn't spare any more thought to the whys and wherefores, instead abandoning himself to the feel of Duo's tongue stroking the roof of his mouth.

Duo realized that Heero's tongue had started to tangle with his, and his half-awakened erection came to full attention at the reciprocation.

Heero's breath hitched as Duo continued to plunder his mouth, and he let Duo maintain control of the kiss. Duo's right hand slid up to graze a nipple, his thumb teasing it as his rigid cock pulsed against Heero's backside. Heero's right hand grasped Duo's, clutching it to his chest and halting the motion of Duo's fingers. His breathing took on the sound of a strangled sob just before he began sucking on Duo's tongue. Duo's free hand made its way to Heero's hair, and suddenly Heero knew what people meant when they said their knees had turned to jelly. He leaned back against the other man, letting Duo support his most of his weight as the kiss deepened.

Oh, God, Duo, Heero thought desperately. What have you done to me?

He had to regain the position of power in this. He turned in the half embrace and thrust both hands into the wealth of hair Duo possessed, suddenly the aggressor in their kiss, not caring that he'd never been good at it. Duo recognized his initial inexperience, but Heero had enough practice in using his tongue on other body parts that he was soon caressing Duo's tongue with his own.

Duo let him lead in the duel going on in their mouths, but he started to back up slowly, taking Heero with him. On their way to the bedroom, they both worked at ridding Heero of the pants. Duo's hip hit a table, and Heero stubbed his toe on a chair, but each twinge of pain made the gnashing of teeth and lips and tongue impossibly deeper, impeding their progress to the bedroom by degrees without halting it altogether. Duo knew what Heero's body was asking for, demanding, even if Heero didn't, and he had no intention of saying no. Didn't think he'd be able to even if he did. It was the last line to be crossed, and Duo did nothing by half measure.

Heero's hands and mouth were everywhere once they reached the bed. He fastened his lips onto Duo's shoulder one moment before licking his neck. His hands ran up and down Duo's sides as his mouth suckled one of Duo's nipples, then he was running his tongue along the crest of Duo's earlobe and pulling it into his mouth.

He was uncaged passion, and Duo realized that he was going to have more than a few physical reminders of this in the morning, but he'd never seen Heero let himself go like this, not even earlier that day when Duo had only THOUGHT Heero was all over him. Duo's whole body was a screaming bundle of nerves as Heero alternately caressed and assaulted his flesh.

"I have..." Heero's teeth biting his shoulder. "...to have..." his fingers fondling Duo's sac. "You." A tongue in his navel. "Need..." Lips back at Duo's ear. "Duo, I..." his voice sounded strangled, and Duo's body responded to the sheer force of Heero's aching need.

"Take me," Duo hissed. "God DAMN it, Heero, take me, FUCK me," he gasped as Heero hit another sensitive spot with his tongue. Hearing those words spill from his own mouth was turning him on almost as much as Heero's ministrations. He wasn't sure if he was ordering or begging. "Ram that cock in me, just FUCK ME THROUGH THE MATTRESS!"

If he'd thought Heero was out of control before, his words took down the rest of the flimsy barricade that had kept Heero's lust at bay. This Heero wasn't a professional escort, wasn't a mere whore with a toolbox full of sexual parlor tricks. He was a man possessed. Flames of desire licked at Duo's body, fueled by Heero's frenzied lovemaking, if it could even remotely be considered that. Pandora's box had been opened, and Duo was struck with the very real awareness that Heero was quite capable of killing him with his bare hands. The idea was disturbingly erotic.

Heero let loose with a stream of Japanese mixed with a smattering of Spanish, the words often muffled, as his mouth couldn't seem to stay away from Duo's body for long. Most of them were words that Duo had never heard before, but his knowledge of either language was limited to more formal speech. The idea that Heero was most likely talking dirty to him made a long groan escape his throat.

Heero's actions were laced with desperation, as if he feared Duo might disappear at any moment. One hand refused to let go of Duo, maintaining contact with the other man as his free hand fumbled to uncap the tube of lubricant that he'd removed from the nightstand at some point.

Duo didn't offer to help. His mind was oddly dissociated from his body, and if it weren't for the fact that his hips were grinding against Heero insistently, he'd have felt like a mere observer instead of a participant. He felt both powerless and in control. It was a heady sensation, but overwhelming as well.

There was a glint of near madness in Heero's eyes as he stared at Duo for several heartbeats with his mouth hanging open. The moment was gone as Heero's tongue swiped at his own lips as he began to prep Duo.

"Heero..." Duo didn't recognize his own voice, heavy with lust and sounding as hoarse as if he'd been screaming.

"Duo," was the answering rumble. Heero's passion-glazed eyes went impossibly wide.

Duo's mouth moved, but no sounds came out. Oh, GOD, Heero, his mind pleaded. Do something. Save me from this need, this emptiness...

Heero stopped the foreplay and moved his hands to Duo's thighs, clamping onto them. He fumbled, seeming at a loss for a moment, then awkwardly managed to get into position. One of Heero's hands moved to Duo's hip, and he made a choking sound as their bodies joined.

It was too fast for Duo, but he bit down on his lip as he watched Heero's face look almost incredulous. Surprised. A little unsure.

Both of Heero's hands were on Duo's hips now, and the shocked look turned to one of possession just before his eyes slid shut. His entire body shuddered; Duo could feel the tremors. Duo repressed a groan as Heero's movements became hard and desperate.

It was like watching someone try to claw his way out of quicksand, Duo thought hazily. The fingers at his hips dug into his skin, and no attention was paid to his own need as Heero lost himself in the act. The headboard, the sturdy wrought iron headboard, was slamming into the wall. It was a good thing there were no adjoining neighbors in the penthouse suite. In any other situation, Duo might have been amused.

He forced himself to keep his eyes open, watching Heero's face in fascination, watching his lips move, chanting.

Duo's name. Heero was saying Duo's name, and nothing else, over and over, in time with each thrust. His eyes were closed now, his head bowed slightly, wisps of dark hair clinging to his glistening face. Duo found the sound of his name coming raggedly from Heero's mouth both arousing and frightening.

Heero's fingers tightened painfully on Duo's hips, and Duo winced, wondering how long it would be before the bones just crumbled to powder. Suddenly Heero threw back his head and screamed, a primal sound that should have had the paintings on the wall falling to the floor with its sheer force. Duo's ears were ringing by the time it was over, and then Heero just deflated, rolling to his side and burying his face in the mattress.

Duo was still hard.

Heero was just lying there, his breath coming in heaving gasps, and the sheets were twisted in his clenched fists. Duo could do nothing more than stare, watching as the irregular breathing slowed and the tension gradually seeped out of Heero's body.

After the deafening shriek Heero had made, it was almost too quiet. The only sound was his own heartbeat thudding in his ears.

Heero had left him unsatisfied. Heero, a prostitute who had initially treated Duo's orgasms like some sort of mission, had just fucked him raw, then rolled over and gone to sleep.

And yet, despite not having climaxed, despite knowing he'd taken a huge risk in not stopping Heero to insist he put a condom on first, despite the bruises and bite marks he knew probably decorated a small portion of his body...

It had been the most incredible sexual experience of his life. Not the best sex, not even necessarily an experience he'd like to repeat, but mind-blowing all the same. It was nothing like sex with a woman. Not even close. Nothing like sex with a man, when done the other way around, either. His hand reached down to cup his sac. God, the feel of Heero's cock, driving into him...

He stared at the ceiling, a rueful smirk on his lips. Any lingering doubts of his sexual attraction towards men had been wiped clean. He didn't think any man would have been able to withstand the tempest of wanton desire that had been Heero.

He would never again in his life experience that. It was like making love to a herd of satyrs. His mind picked out the details he hadn't been able to focus on during the act. The open expression on Heero's face, so different from the mask he usually wore, or the tiny smiles he'd allowed to break free on occasion. His lips, wet and swollen from their earlier kisses - at this he touched his lips. He remembered the glistening that had appeared between Heero's lashes. Duo had been afraid for a split second; afraid that he'd glimpsed something he shouldn't have for so many reasons.

To keep his mind from pursuing that line of thought, he briefly cataloged the injuries he anticipated feeling in the morning. One hand crept up to his chest, and he made an unconscious rubbing motion. If he were to pick the one part of his body that was throbbing with pain the most, it was there. Each heartbeat seemed to amplify the ache, and he wondered dully if he'd ever be the same again.

Heero awoke a few hours later, surprised to find Duo's arm flung across his stomach, his fingers splayed along his hip, and Duo's head pillowed on his chest. His steady breathing indicated he was asleep. Heero's nose twitched. Duo's hair was everywhere: in his face, around his forearm, across his chest, his groin, his legs, and some of it was probably trapped between and beneath their bodies as well. He reached out his free hand, the one Duo didn't have ensnared between the two of them, and brought a handful of the burnished bronze to his face. He inhaled deeply, and felt that same bittersweet longing. It wasn't as sharp as it had been earlier, but Heero assumed it was because his body was still feeling a bit numb from all that had happened. It was a physical satiation only, but it took the edge off the emotional side of things.

What had happened? He had flashes of memory, of wanting Duo, touching Duo, not able to get enough of Duo. He remembered Duo asking him for it. God, Duo...

"What have you done to me, Duo?" he asked quietly. "What the hell have you _done_ to me?"

His thumb stroked Duo's hair, toying with a knot in the long strands.

"Damn it, Duo," he whispered into the hair between his fingers. "Damn it." He breathed in the scent of Duo again and was quiet for a few moments. "I...I've never...you were..." he struggled to find the words he wanted. "That was...oh, Duo..." he practically groaned Duo's name before trailing off helplessly.

"You were lost when I found you," Heero finally managed. "But I've been lost ever since..." his voice became tight, and he hated himself for it. "For a very long time." His fingers clenched at the hair he was caressing. "Duo," he begged quietly. "Don't let me...I don't want to stay lost anymore, Duo." He swallowed the lump in his throat before placing a soft kiss on the tangle in Duo's hair. He closed his eyes, but his fingers refused to let go of the impossible network of knots. He took several deep breaths, matching his breathing to Duo's. By doing so he was able to calm himself by degrees until his body relaxed and he fell back asleep.

As soon as the grip on his hair loosened, Duo's eyes snapped open. He stared at the wall on the other side of the bed, now assured that he would not get a wink of sleep the rest of the night.

tbc

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This chapter dedicated to Asuka Kureru for making me giddy with praise earlier today and convincing me to make this a special double length chapter. I really didn't want to break it into two separate parts, despite its looooong length, because I wanted all the revelations kept together (although I had to for the mailing list, because let's face it, it's huge).

Hope it was all you dreamed it would be! I don't think it was TOO explicit, and I really didn't want to have to censor it because I thought everything that happened was a bit more relevant to the plot than it might have been in other chapters. I have been on pins and needles waiting to share the last scene with you, because it's been on my hard drive for WEEKS.

I also wonder how kcgal's 1x2 flag is doing after this chapter!

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Now for the rambling author's notes:

Originally the working title of this chapter was "Ascending the Oubliette" when the focus was on Duo's background, and I thought I might make that opening scene its own chapter, but I decided that title didn't work as well for the overall theme. Why? Oubliette - from the French oublier, "to forget" - a dungeon with an opening at only the top. Usually a concealed pit beneath the ground. I've heard it referred to as the "pit of despair" or "pit of forgetfulness" in various works of literature. Just imagine one's reaction to the sun after being released from the oubliette!

OK. I cringed a bit to bring up the Michael Jackson video, but Thriller was a landmark video for its time, and it was the only video I could find the budget for online. And to think, I remember him when he was famous for being a performing artist! You'd think it would be easy to find something for a more recent video, just type in 'music video budgets' and go on your merry way...but noooooo... In case you're wondering, the Thriller video allegedly had a million dollar budget, which was quite a hefty sum considering it was made 20 years ago. More useless trivia - John Landis, who directed Thriller, also directed the 1973 film _Schlock_, which had a budget of $61,000. Compare those two costs with the $643,330 price tag on the Enzo.

Apollo the Sun God - I've seen the Greek Sun God named both Helios and Apollo, (Sol and Apollo in Roman mythology), but I thought Apollo just sounded more romantic.

Icarus - the boy who flew too close to the sun. Daedalus and his son, Icarus, escaped from King Minos on the isle of Crete. Ah, the story as to why Daedalus was imprisoned in the first place has to do with helping the cursed Queen Pasiphae mate with a bull (later giving birth to the Minotaur). So crafty Daedalus manages to escape, then he fashions two pairs of wings from feathers and wax. He cautioned his son not to fly too low, or the waves from the water below would drench the wings, nor too high, or the sun would melt the wax. The impulsiveness of youth! Icarus was so excited by his sense of freedom and his newfound power of flight that he kept soaring higher in the sky, eventually flying too close to the sun despite his father's warnings. The wax melted, the wings fell apart, and he fell into the sea and perished.

The Shoemaker and the Elves - there's a little online storybook with animated graphics if you want to check it out here: http : www . shoemakerandtheelves . com / en / main

ODD - Oppositional Defiant Disorder, characterized by several behavioral traits, including, but not limited to, being argumentative with adults, actively defying adults' requests, loss of temper, and feelings of anger and resentment.

Conduct Disorder overlaps ODD, but tends to include aspects such as bullying and cruelty to animals.

I'm once again oversimplifying things, and don't mean to make light of either disorder, but I wanted to provide "just enough" information to satisfy any curiosity anyone might have.

JD - juvenile delinquent

Most military schools will not accept recalcitrant, unwilling students, and parents of students asked to leave the school are still responsible for the tuition, which must be paid up front.

Several sources I've checked have reported both increases and decreases in the number of discharges from military service due to sexual orientation. The harassment part of the policy allows both homosexuals and heterosexuals to report the harassment on the grounds that someone has "alleged" that they are homosexual. Of course, although the commanding officer is required to investigate, can you imagine anyone wanting to risk having the tables turned on them? There's a good article, although somewhat dated, on the policy, from October 2000:

http : www . sldn . org / templates / get / record . html?section6&record23

A September 2003 conference commemorating the 10-year anniversary of this bill was held at Hofstra University in Long Island. Gay City News, Volume 2, Issue 37, mentions the conference and also states that the policy is responsible for an increase in discharges and harassment.

Fescue grass - Combat is the turf style tall fescue grass variety that I pictured. I almost made mention of it by name, but I liked Quatre's realization uncluttered as it was. Combat is drought tolerant, due to its long roots, making it ideal for drier climates, and the leaves are allegedly darker green and softer than its predecessors, including Kentucky-31 tall fescue. The other fescue subspecies, the fine fescues, are more tolerant of shade and cold.

Satyrs - half man, half goat, and reputed to engage in wild behavior, usually involving the deflowering of nymphs and women.


	47. Decrescendo

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The Edulcoration of Duo Maxwell - 47/?

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"Fasten your seatbelts, it's going to be a bumpy night." - Bette Davis, as Margo Channing, in the 1950 film _All About Eve_.

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Warnings: AU, yaoi, coarse language, violence, angst, cliffhangers, red herrings, mention of various vices, random bits of useless knowledge, occasionally explicit sex, enough footnotes to choke an army of horses.

Spoilers: Nah.

Disclaimer: I don't really need to be Captain Obvious here, do I? No ownership, no money being made, yadda yadda. Written for fun, not profit.

Archived at:   
http : // www . atsui . org  
http : // www . gundam-wing-diaries.150m . com / gw / Mookie / gwmookie . htm

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Edulcorate (verb) - To free from harshness (as of attitude); to soften

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Chapter 47 - Decrescendo

Early the next morning Duo gave up on trying to get back to sleep and put his efforts into carefully extricating his hair from his and Heero's bodies. He was sure Heero would awaken when he rolled him to the side to pull his hair out from beneath the two of them, but Heero was dead to the world. It seemed so unlike Heero, to not even twitch in response, that Duo was sure the decision he'd come to during the night was the right one.

He went to the bathroom and looked at his reflection. The damage to his body wasn't as bad as he'd thought, but there was a smattering of red splotches on his upper torso and faint purple smudges on one of his hips. He frowned and then lifted his chin. Thankfully his neck bore no signs of Heero's passion. That would have been extremely embarrassing. Hickeys were for inexperienced, hormone driven teenagers, although Heero had certainly acted like one last night. That wasn't what he saw that was most vexing, though.

The worst sight reflected back at him was the condition of his hair. It was a veritable rat's nest. What had he been thinking, to sit in bed to comb it out? He'd known last night that he was tired, and he should have finished braiding his hair before going anywhere near the bedroom. He'd thought his mind would be too active to allow him to sleep, but that hadn't been a problem until he and Heero had made- 

Until they'd done what they did the night before. Until everything else that followed.

His disheveled appearance really had very little to do with the black cloud over his head, but it was something tangible that he could address. He turned on the shower and stepped under the spray, not waiting for the temperature to adjust first. He let the water saturate his hair, making the snarls tighter and more difficult to untangle.

His eyes were closed, so he didn't see the shadow across the shower door, but he was aware of the presence before he heard the door sliding open. The cooler air outside the confines of the shower touched his skin only briefly before the glass door slid shut again and Heero's arms slid around him from behind. Duo's spine stiffened as Heero's lips pressed against the back of his neck, and he fought to relax, turning his upper torso slightly with a hint of a grin on his face as he held up a lock of knotted hair, something that now resembled the proverbial drowned rat.

"Ow," he said.

Heero's face reflected confusion, concern, disappointment, and finally settled on mild chagrin. A look that turned to mild horror as his eyes traveled up and down the front of Duo's body, noting the occasional discoloration.

"Heero, don't," Duo said flatly. "I very much enjoyed your enthusiasm." Despite his tone, it was true. More than true. It was to be expected, a little soreness, especially his first time. The bruises on his hip were faint, and the weariness he felt was in no way tied to Heero's uncontrollable passion the night before. 

Heero swayed in the shower, his arms dropping to his sides. He closed his eyes and took one step away from Duo, looking very much like he wanted to be sick.

"Heero." Duo gripped his chin and squeezed until Heero opened his eyes. "This is me, remember, the honest bastard?" Heero nodded, even though Duo had only referred to himself that way once, and that had been after his first meeting with Milliardo Peacecraft. "After last night, I can now say, with conviction, that I am gay. Well, bi, at least." He smiled at Heero, and was rewarded by the crinkles around Heero's eyes smoothing out. He brushed the knuckles of his hand across Heero's forehead before turning his back again.

Heero didn't say a word, just carefully pulled the entire sodden mass of hair behind Duo, ensuring he didn't miss a strand. His motions were so gentle that, if not for the added weight of the water, Duo might not have felt any of the tugging at his scalp as his hair was slowly released from Heero's grasp. He heard the shampoo bottle being uncapped and winced as Heero's hands rubbed together, Duo assumed to work up a lather.

Except he soon found out that it was conditioner, not shampoo, that Heero was using. Heero carefully trapped one section of the largest tangles in Duo's hair between his palms, then rubbed them together briskly before dispensing more into his hand and repeating the process. He did this several times, each time including a little more of Duo's hair as he did so. After he'd completely worked the conditioner through the strands, he picked up a single lock of hair and held it near the bottom with one hand as he ran a wide toothed comb through the tangles with the other.

Heero loved the texture against his fingers as the conditioner allowed him to work loose the knots in Duo's hair. It was good that the person he'd once spent the most time with, day after day, had complained to him on more than one occasion about how long it took her to untangle her tresses daily. That was before she'd gotten so fed up with it that one day she'd greeted him, as she did every morning, except he'd noticed that her hair was significantly shorter. He was barely aware that he'd brought up yet another memory of his past without wincing as he worked on the next section of hair.

"You're supposed to shampoo it first, you dork," Duo said, the silence too much for him.

"Anyone ever tell you that you talk too much?" Heero chided gently. Duo closed his eyes at the warmth in Heero's voice. No, he reminded himself. Don't go there.

"Only you, Heero, would have the balls to tell me something like that." Duo hoped the teasing tone of voice didn't sound forced to Heero's ears.

"Hmmm," Heero responded. "And here I'd have thought that Wufei, at least, might have offered that opinion. You've worked together for some time."

Duo's eyes flicked open and he snorted, then cursed as he got a nose full of water for his efforts. He sputtered a bit, and could feel tremors in the body behind him as Heero chuckled softly.

"And I'm the dork," Heero chided gently, beginning to comb from the middle of Duo's hair to the bottom, including larger sections with each stroke.

"If I say so," Duo agreed. Heero made another sound of amusement. He paused in his combing for a moment. Apparently he'd set the comb down somewhere because both hands began to gently massage Duo's scalp.

"Oz," Duo said, fighting to keep his eyes open while Heero's hands worked their magic.

"Oz?"

"The yellow brick road. It doesn't go to Narnia. It goes to Oz."

"Mmm," Heero murmured into Duo's hair, seemingly uncaring that he had to be getting a mouthful of conditioner as a result of the nuzzling. Duo wanted to laugh. It wouldn't be the first time Heero ended up swallowing something he hadn't planned on when they first met.

"The wardrobe leads to Narnia," Heero said, resuming the task of combing. "And Aslan, and the Witch," he added.

"Then I'm sure you knew that the yellow brick road would take you to the Emerald City, and the Wizard. You might encounter flying monkeys, but not the Four Horsemen." Duo bit down his next words, refusing to add that the Great and Powerful Wizard had turned out to be nothing more than a tiny little man behind a curtain. Just another instance where the reality paled next to the fantasy, even in fiction.

He decided he would allow himself this one last perfect moment with Heero. There'd be enough time for recrimination after he closed the book on this particular chapter of his life.

No, he reminded himself. There would be no regrets. It was the right thing to do.

It was that thought and that thought only that prevented him from turning and planting his lips firmly against Heero's, consequences be damned, no matter how good it felt, the sensation of his hair smoothing out under Heero's meticulously thorough care.

~~~~~

Milliardo Peacecraft arrived at the Zagat award-winning restaurant in the Renaissance Hotel at six-thirty, eager to have some time to think things over before meeting his companion for breakfast.

He ordered nothing more than coffee to start with. Mimosas would dull his intellect, and he knew he needed to be sharp for the upcoming battle of wits. He also knew that by the end of the meal, he would have arrived at a decision.

He'd told Pagan to be ready to bring Relena wherever it was that the fate of the company was going to be determined, for better or worse. He'd informed his sister that she was to stay at home, and under no circumstances was she to go out for any last minute tete-a-tetes with anyone. Especially Heero, he'd thought, but he didn't say it out loud.

Treize had said quite a bit, actually, Milliardo realized, once he'd had time to digest it. Treize had also made what seemed to be an idle comment about motivation of people in general, but nothing he said was ever without purpose. He'd said that individuals often acted with the same goals in mind as others, and that what drove one man wasn't always all that different than what drove another, despite appearances to the contrary.

It made him feel like nothing more than just child of Hamelin following the Pied Piper, but he knew from the light in Treize's eyes that wasn't what he meant.

There was something missing that would put the comment in perspective, but he knew that if Treize didn't want to tell him, he wasn't about to.

He'd spent so much time mulling over Treize's words, he almost missed the arrival of his guest, but his military training wasn't that easily forgotten.

He stood up to greet her just before she arrived at the table he'd reserved.

"Good morning, Mister Milliardo," she said, an enigmatic smile on her face.

~~~~~

Heero knew that things had changed irrevocably. Duo had not really welcomed his presence in the shower, even though he had allowed his body to relax slightly. He'd almost reluctantly enjoyed the attention paid to his hair. Duo said he was an honest bastard, but Heero had come to realize that neither word described Duo accurately, other than when it suited his purposes.

It seemed as though a switch had been thrown after last night, although whether it was a matter of turning something on or off, he wasn't sure. Either way there was little Duo could hide from him now, try as he might. Heero could read his body language like a book, and he felt he could comprehend Duo far better than he could English, or Spanish, or Japanese. Perhaps that was only true within the walls of this suite, which was fast becoming more like a fairy tale castle in his mind.

So which of them had vanquished a hundred years worth of briars, thorns, and overgrowth to awaken the slumbering princess?

It was a poor analogy, although he supposed 'princess' served just as well as a euphemism for an emotion that it seemed both of them had spent far too much time pretending didn't exist. The difference was that in almost all fairy tales, the princess was beautiful and soft-spoken, and once awakened, she and the hero went off to live happily ever after - something far from realistic, even figuratively speaking.

Then again, the original version of most fairy tales had a goodly amount of blood and gore in them. The princess was never _easily_ won, and perhaps, when it came down to it, she was a shrew as well.

After they'd turned off the water, Duo puttered around the bathroom, and Heero had taken the hint and left him alone. He'd pulled on a pair of pants and grabbed a shirt from the closet before leaving the bedroom, knowing it would be easier for Duo to deal with the way things had changed if he had some time to himself.

No matter how hard Duo tried to deny it, things had changed. Heero could only hope that Duo eventually arrived at the same conclusion he had.

He walked to one of the balcony doorways, deliberately avoiding the one he had used all week, where Duo had shared the story of his youth. He found the memory of Duo's impersonal words at the end of the narrative still stung his ears. Instead he chose the balcony entrance where Duo had found him last night, where he'd invited, accepted, welcomed, and enthusiastically returned Duo's kiss.

If it turned out that he was going to have to content himself with only the memories of their time together, he was going to make damn sure they were ones worth carrying with him.

~~~~~

When Duo's mind was troubled, he found something soothing about routine. Doing that which was familiar, and repeating a process that required little in the way of mental activity, kept the hands busy, and therefore the mind had a chance to still the wildly ricocheting thoughts that were so unsettling.

It was Sunday, but he got dressed anyway, just like he did every morning, first donning the tailored slacks, and then a crisp dress shirt. The act of tying a Windsor knot and feeling the expensive silk tie beneath his fingers - these things were like a security blanket, one he clung to almost desperately.

It wasn't until Duo was dressed as if it were just another day at the office, his clothes looking impeccable, his hair braided tightly, that he felt capable of dealing with the Heero issue. When he finally emerged from the bedroom, Heero was in the process of walking from one of the balcony doors toward the desk where the laptop was set up.

Apparently Heero must have needed some sort of routine to follow as well. Duo had expected to see him naked, or in the hotel robe, or maybe wearing nothing more than the loose pants that dipped temptingly on his hips, exposing his navel...

He should have known that Heero had detected that something was rotten in the state of Denmark. Duo cleared his throat and looked away, not wanting to be swayed by Heero's unconsciously seductive manner.

Unconscious my ass, Duo reminded himself. Don't let him lead you around. He does this all the time. It's his job. He couldn't look at Heero, who was dressed in the dark pants and the pale yellow shirt that he'd worn the day Wufei punched him. The shirt was unbuttoned, and Duo knew all too well what the sight of Heero's bare chest was like.

He found it odd that Heero had decided not to wear jeans, although he really had no idea how Heero usually dressed on weekends. The fleeting thought crossed his mind that perhaps at least one of the two pairs of Heero's jeans might have been soiled in a rather conspicuous place. He had to stop thinking about things like that, instead focusing on the possibility that perhaps Heero was already getting dressed for another day of work on the streets, although the leather pants would have been a lot more appropriate. Except that they'd draw more attention to Heero as he left the hotel, just like they had when Duo had brought him here a week ago...

"Heero," he began unnecessarily, as he already had the man's undivided attention. "You know my business in California will be concluded one way or another today." At least he assumed so. No news would mean they were wasting their time with Peacecraft. He'd be glad to get on that plane and go back to New York; he'd had more than enough of the West Coast. In the future, maybe Wufei would be willing to take on more of the responsibilities here. He'd have to discuss it with his partner.

"Yes," Heero said calmly. "You had informed me of that, right at the beginning of the week, and I had assumed, without receiving any additional information, that the end of our contract remained unchanged." 

And you know what happens when you 'assume,' Yuy.

"That's kinda what I want to talk to you about," Duo said, risking a glance at Heero, but not meeting his eyes - eyes that had narrowed dangerously, unbeknownst to Duo.

"Meaning?" Heero folded his arms across his chest, and Duo had to look away again.

~~~~~

"Dorothy," Milliardo greeted. "I see you are exceedingly prompt."

"When there is something I want," she responded, flipping her hair out of the way before she sat down. "I find it pointless to wait."

"I understand you had a rather interesting conversation with my sister," he said.

She smiled, an expression that looked less like one of pleasure and more of grudging admiration.

"It seems I underestimated the sparrow," Dorothy said softly. "I must say Miss Relena's intelligence is quite impressive."

"What do you want, Miss Catalonia?"

They were interrupted by their waiter. Dorothy ordered a Bloody Mary. Milliardo took the opportunity to study her in that short time.

She exuded confidence, and in that moment, he saw her as Relena must have. He couldn't blame his sister for being unnerved. If he hadn't faced worse on the battlefield, perhaps he'd have been a bit uncomfortable as well.

Several battlefields, he amended, including the personal ones.

After Dorothy's drink arrived, she stirred it with the celery garnish and then placed the stalk in her mouth and sucked it dry. She gestured toward a nearby window.

"Ever watch crows drop walnuts in the streets?"

He shook his head and started to wish he had requested something with less of a stimulant effect than coffee. Perhaps an herbal tea would have been a better choice. He hoped it would not be the first wrong choice he made today.

"In Japan, and in parts of California, crows have been observed dropping walnuts into the street. After passing cars crush the nuts beneath their wheels, the birds return to retrieve the exposed nutmeat.

"The question is," she said, returning eerie blue eyes to Milliardo's. "Are they demonstrating signs of intent, or is it a happy coincidence?"

She settled back into her seat, and Milliardo could imagine her acting the part of a Southern belle, complete with hoop skirt, or whatever it was that women wore to make them appear more excruciatingly feminine. Despite the almost vacant look to her eyes, she was shrewd, and his brief investigation had unearthed a few stories about her machinations. 

Her tactics almost reminded him of Treize's. No wonder Relena had been blindsided. He felt a brief pang of regret, but he could not spend his life changing the past. He could only attempt to atone for mistakes he may have made, all in the best interests of anyone he'd ever cared for. He wished he could consider himself as deserving of the same concern. He may not care for his own wellbeing, but Relena certainly did. Being responsible for her upbringing had always been daunting.

He had to let Dorothy know that he was not as naïve as his sister. It wasn't the best strategy, to allow an enemy to see all your cards, but he was a civilian now. He could adhere to his own code of honor. The only ones at stake were those he was responsible for protecting.

Two could play the analogy game, though, and fortunately he'd been prepared for this eventuality after his meeting with Treize. Dorothy might be more mysterious, but she possessed not a tenth of the experience Treize had.

"You seem a very bright young woman as well, Dorothy," he said, dispensing with the formalities at this point. "I am sure you've heard of the ecosystem."

"Of course," she smiled at him. "It's the backbone of business."

"Then you understand that each participant in the food chain is dependent on the others."

"Naturally," she replied with a slight nod. She took a sip of her drink and he had an image that the thick red liquid was something other than tomato juice and vodka, and he would not be surprised if she'd drink it with just as much aplomb.

"I do not wish to be a producer any longer," he said. "Nor a decomposer, like Maxwell-Chang. It's time for Peacecraft to be a consumer."

"You don't fear upsetting the delicate balance set in place?" she asked, running a remarkably long fingernail along the edge of her glass. For a moment he thought she'd unsheathed her claws, but her voice had that same blend of amusement and almost religious fervor.

"If any single link has a major shift in population, perhaps that would be the case. However, I am concerned with the effects of surrendering my family's company to Romefeller."

"You do not think it would be symbiotic?"

"There are many forms of symbiosis, Dorothy?"

"And you fear a parasitic relationship with Grandfather's company," she said thoughtfully.

"I fear nothing," he said adamantly. "However, I am not a fool. Do not treat me as one."

She looked up and saw the veiled anger as well as heard it. She was being warned to tread carefully.

She took another sip, and Milliardo felt more and more like he was dining with a feminine version of Treize. If she started talking about wine, however, he thought he might be tempted to shoot her, even if he hadn't carried a firearm since he was discharged.

"What a small world," she said suddenly, looking over his shoulder at something.

Despite the fact that it could be considered rude, he turned to see what she was looking at.

Or who. It was a middle-aged woman he did not recognize, but she apparently knew Dorothy, because she smiled and changed direction to stop by their table.

"Miss Catalonia," she said. It was disgusting, he thought, the way the woman was practically simpering. "How nice to see you again."

They exchanged pleasantries for a while, with Dorothy saying very little, and the other woman endeavoring to pile on the compliments. He suspected the sycophant worked for Dermail, although it didn't explain Dorothy's perpetual smirk and the occasional glances she threw his way.

Then again, nothing Dorothy did or said could be easily explained.

"Well, Miss Catalonia," the woman finally seemed to have run out of pretty words. Her fawning behavior was most likely the biggest reason he hadn't connected with anyone on a personal level since he'd taken over the business. He had little tolerance for such blind hero worship. Not that he'd had time to think of anything except trying to keep the company afloat. He hoped like hell that Relena didn't turn out to be like that, and found himself seething at the image of his sister and Heero, sequestered in the corner like two young lovers. It was incredibly interesting that Heero did not seem to possess a last name.

He turned his attention back to his dining companion. Milliardo shuddered to think at the kind of man that Dorothy might marry some day. As if on cue, the ingratiating woman seemed to remember something she hadn't yet told Dorothy.

"Oh! Before I forget, I have a picture for you."

Dorothy's knowing smirk grew a bit, and he half expected her to wink at him while the woman rummaged eagerly through her purse.

"Here it is!" she beamed, handing a wallet-sized photo to the enigmatic blonde.

"Thank you, Miss Fane," Dorothy said, her voice clearly dismissing the other woman.

Dorothy's talons - fingernails, Milliardo corrected himself - were running along the edge of the photograph.

She turned it over to reveal the subject of the portrait. He didn't have to ask the identity of the young redheaded girl in the photo, because Dorothy was only too happy to provide that information in her next breath.

"I assume you have not yet met Mariemeia Khushrenada, Mister Milliardo?"

~~~~~

This chapter dedicated to Natea, who, without even trying, helped my muse get its groove back. Thanks, 'Claire'!

Now for the ubiquitous footnotes!

~~~~~

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Decrescendo is a musical direction that means to gradually become softer, to decrease in volume. However, its antonym, _crescendo_, a swelling of sound or volume, has another meaning. Merriam-Webster.com, rapidly becoming my best friend, indicates the second definition of crescendo as "any gradual increase (as in physical or emotional force or intensity)." Chew on that one if ya want.

"Something is rotten in the state of Denmarke" - something is wrong, something is strange, or something is fishy. Spoken by Marcellus in Act I, Scene IV of Shakespeare's _Hamlet_.

The food chain explained Reader's Digest style (meaning heavily abbreviated): The links of the food chain are producers, consumers, and decomposers. The herbivores and carnivores are both consumers, feeding directly or indirectly on the producers, which are the green plants, using minerals and gases in the environment to support life. The decomposers return the consumers into minerals and gases. A bit more detailed than Elton John's Circle of Life, eh?

The part about crows is true, although after some ornithological study on the phenomenon, it appears that the crows aren't intentionally using the car tires as nutcrackers, and their interaction with the cars is apparently coincidental. They have a habit of dropping walnuts onto a variety of hard surfaces, not just busy intersections. Although they will fetch the shelled kernel if a car does run over it, they are also just as likely to fly away without retrieving the nut, cars or no cars. Crows, along with members of the corvidae family (such as jays and ravens), are considered to be among the most 'intelligent' birds, exhibiting an ability to use tools to perform various tasks.

I told you that most OC's get their names from somewhere, right? The name 'Fane' was borrowed from a character from the Bette Davis' 1965 horror/suspense film _The Nanny_. Film trivia - the family nanny, played by Davis, is responsible for the care of a ten-year-old boy named Joey, blamed for the death of his younger sister, despite his protests that it was the nanny responsible for the little girl's drowning. Mrs. (not Miss) Virginia Fane is Joey's unable-to-cope mother.

~~~~~

CuriousDreamWeaver - I'm glad you enjoyed the bit with Trowa. I think there's a potential to forget about his revelations in light of Duo's and Heero's!

Nevi - you're making me blush! Thank you for the kind words. I was eager to get to the kissing scene, too, but a lot of things had to take place first! I'm flattered that you consider yourself..."not obsessed!"

Lana - things are coming together, most certainly - how "perfect" remains to be seen! Thank you!

Lrigelbbub - This chapter didn't arrive as soon as I'd hoped, but the timing of everything that happens is a bit critical...as Bette said, fasten your seatbelts...

Mara202 - I was really looking forward to revealing Duo's past _finally_. Trowa seems to find a way of making a much bigger impact on the stories I've written for some reason, so it was a relief to finally get his on the table, too.

Rena - I have been guilty of the same thing, finding a multi-part fic that has made sleep a lower priority. I'm immensely flattered that mine has done that to you. I wish I could say I was sorry...but I don't think I'd mean it! Thank you!!!

Lainy the Daft - I was a bit overwhelmed at your reaction. So I done good, then? :-)

DuosGemini - I was both excited and nervous about the kiss and whether it would meet everyone's expectations, but it was how I pictured it happening. I'm glad you liked it!

Kanon*A/161386 - I am absolutely in love with your genetics analogy. It ties in perfectly with Dream Kitty's red thread explanation. Your comment that they follow the GW canon is the best compliment I can be paid. It made my day when I read it! Thanks!

darkrevenge - Wow, I am in danger of getting a swelled head from all your praise. Thank you so very much for taking the time to let me know what you thought. The footnotes do seem to be popular with a few folks. I like providing the information, and anyone can choose to read it or not. It's amazing the parallels I've found when I've picked something almost at random, and then discovered even the faintest similarities between it and the story. I'm hoping that the brief hiatus I took was sufficient to put the next day's events in an order that works best. It was the biggest stumbling block after the rather climactic chapter 46. Despite the hair pulling I went through the past few days...I will sorely miss writing this when the last chapter is done.

holly - I hope the aftermath of all the revelations continue to be just as gripping. The last chapter was rather pivotal, and now it's time to see the ramifications.

Pia Bartolini - I thought I'd never get a new chapter done...but I hope the wait wasn't too long. Four, five days, I think? That's a record for me. ;-)

RadCowgirlEd - would you believe that at one time, I despised 1x2/2x1 fics, and I couldn't stand Heero's character? I've come a long way, baby, as the old Virginia Slims ads used to tout (or am I dating myself horribly with that?). You don't know how much I enjoy hearing that someone found the lemon scenes enjoyable. I am still rather new at it and feared my stance as a novice might make them almost painful. I also find it heartwarming to hear comments about Quatre or Meiran and the rest, because that was how the story became the monster it did, characterizing each the way I saw them. Meiran went from someone who was going to have a single scene to being a character I really look forward to writing. She proved to be the perfect foil for Wufei in so many ways. Trowa was originally not even supposed to be in the story...but I have decided that I have this soft spot for Trowa, who infiltrates everything I write!

~~~~~

I hope the chapter was worth the wait...and keep your fingers crossed that RL allows me to get the next one out _tut suite_!


	48. Risk of a Pyrrhic Victory

****

The Edulcoration of Duo Maxwell - 48/?

~~~~~

"One so often looks at things the wrong way round." - Jane Marple, _Greenshaw's Folly_

~~~~~

Warnings: AU, yaoi, coarse language, violence, angst, cliffhangers, red herrings, mention of various vices, random bits of useless knowledge, occasionally explicit sex, enough footnotes to choke an army of horses.

Rating: NC-17

Spoilers: Nah.

Disclaimer: I don't really need to be Captain Obvious here, do I? No ownership, no money being made, yadda yadda. Written for fun, not profit.

Archived at:   
http : // www . atsui . org  
http : // www.gundam-wing-diaries.150m . com / gw / Mookie / gwmookie . htm

__

Edulcorate (verb) - To free from harshness (as of attitude); to soften

~~~~~

****

Chapter 48 - Risk of a Pyrrhic Victory

To say Milliardo Peacecraft was surprised was an understatement of vast proportions.

Khushrenada. It could not be a coincidence, and it would explain a lot of the sly looks he'd been receiving.

Treize had never mentioned her, so this girl couldn't be his daughter, could she?

"Virgie Fane has been Mariemeia's primary caregiver while Mister Treize is at work," Dorothy said, answering that question. She looked quite pleased to have a bit of information that he did not.

"Do you see how an alliance between us could make us unstoppable?" she asked, her cold eyes taking on a spark of what he could best describe as bloodlust.

"There is little that escapes me, given time," she said. "I must say, thanks to you, I even found out about Relena's little 'date.' You did not seem very pleased with their tête-à-tête. I wonder if the two of them had a conversation as stimulating as ours."

Milliardo was still fixated on one new piece of the puzzle. Treize had a daughter. He could not comprehend it. He took that bit of information, turned it over in his head, then went back over his conversation with the man yesterday.

Treize had said that sometimes people worked on similar motivations. Milliardo's was securing Relena's future first and foremost, and then upholding the family name and reputation second. Treize knew that.

Was Treize acting to provide for his daughter first, and for the company second? Was he hinting that others might be acting with similar interests?

He suspected that Treize hadn't always been involved in her upbringing. Considering her age in the photograph, there was no way Treize would not have said something to him by now. In fact, in some ways, Treize was almost painfully old fashioned. He would have offered to marry the mother, may have even insisted on it.

He'd made his decision, and it pained him to do so.

The things I do for love, he thought. Relena better be home like I told her before I left.

He pulled out his cell phone and glanced at Dorothy, who shrugged and picked up her Blood Mary again. In light of her ambivalence, he wasn't worried about seeming discourteous.

He made two phone calls, each concise and to the point, and then glanced at the photo of Mariemeia before making a third. He pocketed his phone and stood up.

"Mister Milliardo," she said tilting her head to suggest that he seat himself again. He did, out of morbid curiosity alone.

"There is a bird called the Egyptian plover," she said. "It has a symbiotic relationship with the Nile crocodile. Familiar with it?"

He just met her gaze levelly, not allowing her to bait him. He knew that she was well aware just whom he'd called, but allowed her to play her little game. He just had no intention of joining her in it.

"The crocodile feeds all day, then opens its mouth to invite the plover in," she said, undeterred by his apparent lack of interest. "The bird cleans its teeth and gums of food particles, and sometimes dines on parasites as well. It is mutualism at its most surprising. Sometimes you put your head in the mouth of the crocodile, but unless you're the plover bird, you never know if or when it's going to snap shut.

"I do not consider our breakfast a waste of time, Mister Milliardo. I cannot deny that I am disappointed in your decision, but I am not particularly surprised. Nor can I say I regret out time together. Perhaps the next time we meet the circumstances will be much different, and this conversation will have given me an insight into the mind of my opponent. An edge, if you will." She looked at him speculatively. "A worthy adversary..." she began.

"...makes emerging victorious from battle all the more rewarding," he cut in at last, and her eyes gleamed.

She raised her glass in a silent toast.

"Until our foils cross again." With that, she downed the rest of the drink in a single gulp and smiled.

Milliardo glanced at the photograph on the table again.

Treize had a daughter.

He hoped the rest of the day wouldn't hold quite so many revelations. Perhaps he should avoid drinking coffee until the deal had been signed, because the day was off to a rather interesting start.

~~~~~

Duo had given a lot of thought to what he wanted to say to Heero, but in the end, he fell back on one of the oldest defense mechanisms in the book.

"You were good, Heero," he drawled. "I have to say, I can see why you insisted on being..._uke_, was it? Definitely your forte in the bedroom."

He would not look at Heero's eyes, would not see if those words pierced Heero to the core.

"If you'd like, I'd be more than happy to give your number to some of my colleagues. Maybe one of them could offer you something along the lines of a permanent arrangement, perhaps a contract of exclusivity."

He reached into his pocket and withdrew the money clip he'd removed from the bedroom safe, carefully counting out the other half of the money he'd promised Heero at the end of the contract and placing it on the table, right next to the leather case containing Heero's computer. It had always been Heero's computer, and he suspected they'd both known that from the start.

It was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

"You want me to be someone's kept woman," Heero finally said. "Is this punishment for last night?" He hated that Duo had managed to provoke that sort of reaction in him.

"No," Duo said. "Will you just forget about last night?" The way I am trying to, he thought. "This has nothing to do with last night. And no, I don't expect you to be a 'kept woman' for anyone. I certainly don't think of you as a woman at all," he added, not liking Heero's comment one bit. "I'm just thinking that perhaps a few of my associates are clinging to the coats in their respective closets. Hell, screw them all for all I care, I'd just like to see you with a steady income, with less of a risk for infection. I'm expressing concern for your wellbeing, you ungrateful bastard."

Heero didn't reply, and Duo exploded, not exactly sure why he was unable to maintain the cool façade he'd carefully constructed before leaving the bathroom, and had tried to cement into place while getting dressed.

"Will you get over yourself?" he roared. "I told you from the very beginning I wasn't gay, remember? You're the one who was going to convert me for the bargain basement price of a mere five C's. All I wanted from you was a goddamn set of directions!"

"And all _I_ wanted when you got me up here was a quick fuck and my three hundred dollars, but that wasn't enough for you, either, was it? You had to have me the whole fucking night just to deal with your own closet issues, in the end."

Things were getting ugly, but Duo refused to let Heero pin this guilt on him.

"I thought I was doing you a favor, damn it! I'm trying to do you a favor now! Off the street, safe from...from street thugs, and STDs, and wondering where your next meal is coming from!" So much for honesty, he thought. It seemed he'd spent the week mired in both truth and lies, often at the same time. This wasn't how he'd envisioned their parting, but the die had already been cast.

Heero's voice took on a dangerous edge. "Oh, and you're the one to save me from myself, right? If you hadn't noticed, Mister Maxwell, I was doing just fine before you came along." He held out his arm, pointing at the veins in the crook of his elbow. "No track marks. I told you I don't do drugs. I am not stupid, and I certainly know how to take care of myself, just as much as you do. They make condoms for a reason. I was fully aware of the hazards of my profession, and I took every precaution to avoid them."

Duo remembered Heero's rather surprising strength, and he couldn't think of anyone less in need of saving. For some reason that thought didn't sit right with him at all, so much so that he hadn't noticed the verb tense Heero used when referring to his job.

"Look who's calling the kettle black. Do you think you didn't treat ME like a frail little girl?" he edged bitterly. "The sex last night was a bit rough, Heero, but it was..." Duo stopped, not willing to explain to Heero something that he couldn't explain to himself. He tried going for humor. "You know, once you go Heero..." Shit, that wasn't going to help matters either, and on top of that, he was now contradicting his earlier statement about Heero's talent in the bedroom when he was in the more dominant position. If he were honest with himself, what Heero lacked in experience he made up for in enthusiasm.

For the briefest of moments, he wondered what it might like to try that again, only with a Heero who exhibited an aching tenderness, much like he had in the shower. Then maybe the chance to return the favor.

Things had spun out of control, and in a desperate attempt to follow through with his decision, he'd blurted out the first thing that came to mind. He'd insulted Heero terribly, and then the two of them just kept adding more fuel to that fire.

He remembered the way Heero had looked on the balcony the night before, the way his voice had sounded when he'd talked about the woman in his past. Thought about the hitch in Heero's breath when he'd seen the picture of Meiran and Hilde, the woman who figured most prominently in Duo's own recent past. Remembered Heero's look of annoyance when he'd suffered through the fitting at the tailor's, and the expression on his face as they assembled the jigsaw puzzle.

The flashes of memory seemed analogous to dying, except it wasn't his entire life that he saw, just those moments with Heero. The way Heero handled the rifle at the shooting range, the way he'd eaten with chopsticks and explained things to Relena Peacecraft at dinner, and the way he'd looked at the gallery, wearing that soft gray suit and talking to Meiran.

He tried very hard not to, but he could also clearly remember the feel of Heero's body under his when they'd wrestled, and the way Heero's lips had clumsily moved against his before returning the kiss with ardor. It had been more like a first kiss than his actual first kiss had been. It scared the hell out of him, even now.

"Heero," Duo's voice was quiet and resigned. "I have never exploited you as my whore. You know that, right?"

Heero scoffed. "Is that supposed to make a difference? Regardless of how you may have wanted to pretend otherwise, at your convenience, I was, in fact, a whore, Duo. Don't kid yourself. When it suited your purposes, you made that pretty clear several times this week." He gestured to the pile of money.

"And you've treated me nothing more than your damn john, right from the beginning!" It was the first time Duo had referred to himself in that way, but damn it, Heero refused to let go of the gauntlet. "You have a HELL of a lot of goddamn pride for someone who lets anyone fuck him for money! I have never paid for sex before I met you, but I'm pretty sure others in your 'profession' don't charge anywhere near as much as the prices you quoted me! Face it, Heero, you were playing me as soon as you got in that car. Two hundred for this, five hundred for that, a thousand for the night, and every fucking option jacked up the price even more! If I were just some sleaze on the street, you'd have charged me half as much and treated me with twice the respect. You got exactly what you wanted out of this arrangement, Heero, so don't play the wounded martyr with me."

~~~~~

Duo had a point. Heero was letting his emotions cloud the issue at hand. There was a difference between following one's heart and letting it override good sense. He wasn't sure if that was supposed to be a good thing or a bad thing. He turned and walked toward the balcony doors again. Seemed all of life's mysteries could be solved there. He leaned his shoulder against the doorjamb and crossed his arms in front of him.

Duo knew how to cut him to the quick. Heero had suspected days ago, and had fought like crazy, the feelings that had somehow wormed their way into his life. Last night he'd given into them wholeheartedly, giving everything to Duo and holding nothing back for himself. He'd completely lost control, and for once, it had felt damn good.

Did he regret it? No more than he had regretted accepting a precious few individuals into the small circle of people he granted the label of 'friend.' With Kitty gone, and Duo in a category by himself, he counted only three people as friends, although he suspected that, under different circumstances, Meiran Long would have been a fourth.

Heero glanced at the floor of the balcony and noticed that the hotel logo was visible from where he stood. The previous evening, during Duo's narrative, he'd spent a lot of time examining the floor. He would have sworn that, by the time Duo reminded him in that cold impersonal tone that they were going to part ways, he had the entire thing memorized. He knew exactly how many light gray tiles alternated with dark and how many tiles made up the entire border pattern itself.

But he'd been unable to see the picture each piece contributed to until he stepped back and looked at it from a distance.

Even the word "mosaic" was derived, indirectly, from the Greek word "mouseion." Patient work, worthy of the Muses. This entire suite was saturated with symbolism.

Patience. Heero had plenty of experience being patient. He disliked it intensely, but there were times when he'd had no other choice. Patience may have been a virtue, but Heero tolerated it as a means to an end.

He looked over his shoulder at Duo, who was trying his damnedest to avoid eye contact. Was Duo still working his way through the briars, or had he reached the princess, only to discover that he didn't swing that way? It was a rather humorous metaphor to use, but he didn't feel much like laughing.

Heero took a deep breath. Duo had a way of pushing his buttons at times, making him say things he didn't mean. It seemed as though they were both reaching for words that were completely irrelevant at this point, if not outright false. He found it frustrating, reaching that point of clarity, and realizing he'd reached it alone. He frowned. Alone. Duo had been the catalyst, that was certain, but he had come to all his conclusions without any outside input. Everything he knew, everything he believed in, was the result of his own experiences, including the situation with Duo. Meiran Long may have been right about what she said at the gallery, but it seemed too early to make that call.

As the ancient Greeks discovered, if the Oracle at Delphi provided an answer that was too cryptic, perhaps the wrong question had been asked. A second prophecy was often gladly made, for a price. Was he willing to cough up the extra gold in exchange for the answer to his future?

The Delphic shrine may have been dedicated to Apollo, but in the winter, when the sun god was absent, it was sacred to another Olympian.

If Duo had the guts to look at Heero's face, and if Heero's back wasn't still turned toward him, he'd have seen the smile that appeared on Heero's lips. However, Duo had made up his mind and refused to be taken in by a pair of tempting eyes, no matter what color they might be at the moment.

'OK, Duo,' Heero thought. 'I understand. I knew this earlier in the week, but didn't want to accept it. I was sprinting toward the finish line while you were still learning to crawl. I won't push for something you aren't ready to handle. You need to come to terms with it in your own time and stop hiding from the truth. In the meantime...I'll wait until Apollo returns to the north for the winter.'

It came down to having that damned patience again. Means to an end. He turned his entire body around to look at Duo.

Still adamantly refusing to meet his gaze was the man who had taken everything Heero had given him. Everything.

The end was worth it.

Now it was up to Duo to decide if he felt the same, or if the briars were too much for him.

Heero's eyes fell on the pile of money sitting on the desk just as Duo's cell phone rang.

tbc

~~~~~

A Pyrrhic victory - one in which the cost or losses are greater that the value of the prize won. The adjective Pyrrhic means "achieved at excessive cost." Named for Pyrrhus, the king of Epirus, who sustained heavy losses in defeating the Romans. He was later quoted as saying, "One more victory like this will be the end of me."

In Chapter 47, Dorothy and Milliardo discuss symbiosis. Dorothy mentioned a parasitic relationship then, and mutualism here.

In broad terms, symbiosis is a "mutual cooperation between persons and groups in a society especially when ecological interdependence is involved" (my thanks to Merriam Webster, as usual).

The relationship between the plover bird and the Nile crocodile is a dramatic example of mutualism, a symbiotic relationship where both parties benefit. The pollination of flowers by bees is also a good example of this, where the flowers continue to multiply as a result, and the bee obtains food. For the plover bird, it finds food in the crocodile's mouth, and the croc gets free dental care in return.

Another form of symbiosis is commensalism, where only one party benefits, but the other party is not harmed as a result. An example of this would be a squirrel making its home in a treetop. This provides safe, secure shelter for the squirrel, and is neither beneficial nor harmful to the tree.

Parasitism, and you probably know, is where one organism benefits and the other is harmed in some way from the relationship. Think of the common cold, where the virus has found a warm host body in which to flourish, at least temporarily, but the human body doesn't benefit from the accompanying symptoms.

Usually when someone mentions 'symbiosis,' they are referring to mutualism.

Reference: _With a Little Help From My Friends_, Janye Bohner, The DuPage Conservationist, Summer 2002.

The Oracle at Delphi - Zeus determined the center of the world by releasing two birds, one flying east and the other west. Where they met was Delphi. The oracle was known for giving truthful, if sometimes ambiguous and confusing, prophecies, and is featured in several pieces of Greek literature. King Croseus of Lydia (think of the expression "rich as Croseus") consulted the oracle, who told him his planned actions would cause the fall of a mighty empire. Too bad it was his own!

The shrine was originally a place of worship for Gaia (mother earth), but it fell to Apollo after he slew Python, Gaia's son, a giant serpent-dragon.

In the winter, Apollo spent time with the Hyperboreans, a group of worshippers rumored to dwell in the north of the world. During Apollo's absence, the temple at Delphi was dedicated to Dionysus.

mosaic - By most accounts, the word mosaic is actually derived from the French _mosaique_ or the Latin _musaicum_, meaning "work of the Muses" or simply "of the Muses."


	49. Transition Elements

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The Edulcoration of Duo Maxwell - 49/?

~~~~~

"One so often looks at things the wrong way round." - Jane Marple, _Greenshaw's Folly_ by Agatha Christie

~~~~~

Warnings: AU, yaoi, coarse language, violence, angst, cliffhangers, red herrings, mention of various vices, random bits of useless knowledge, occasionally explicit sex, enough footnotes to choke an army of horses.

Spoilers: In this chapter, YES. Major spoiler for the last chapter of _The Maltese Falcon_.

Disclaimer: I don't really need to be Captain Obvious here, do I? No ownership, no money being made, yadda yadda. Written for fun, not profit.

Archived at:   
http : // www . atsui . org  
http : // www.gundam-wing-diaries.150m . com /gw/Mookie/gwmookie . htm

__

Edulcorate (verb) - To free from harshness (as of attitude); to soften

~~~~~

****

Chapter 49 - Transition Elements

"The emotional qualities are antagonistic to clear reasoning." - Sherlock Holmes, _Sign of The Four_

~~~~~

"DUO!" Wufei's voice thundered over Duo's cell phone. "Where are you right now?"

"At the hotel, where else would I be?" In Heero, his mind whispered at him, taking the wind out of his sails a bit.

"We have a meeting scheduled with Peacecraft, Duo. Son of a bitch expects us to jump when he calls, but I want to move ahead with this, before he changes his mind again. He said he had a few phone calls to make, and I'm going to do the same. The sooner we get to the office to assemble our own team, the better."

"Yeah, OK," Duo said, glancing at Heero who was stalking out to the balcony. "Listen, Wufei, I'll be on my way out the door in just a minute. Hold 'em off if you get there before I do. Stall them with your dazzling wit."

"In just a minute?" Wufei asked. "Duo, what's going on?"

"The more time I spend on the phone chatting with you, the less time I'll have to actually get there," Duo pointed out. "Are you en route now? When you get there, have a drink, do some meditation, call the psychic hotline, use feng shui to rearrange your office. Just stay calm, and for the love of all that is holy, please make sure there is some coffee ready before this meeting starts."

He disconnected the call before Wufei could say anything else, then followed Heero out to the balcony where he'd wandered just before the phone rang.

~~~~~

"He hung up on me," Wufei complained to his wife as he put his cell phone on the kitchen table. "He didn't even let me tell him what time the meeting was."

"Mmm hmmm," she said, the tip of her tongue peeking out from between her teeth as she read the back of the bottle in her hand. "So tell him when you see him at the office later."

"Will you stop examining that and just...do what you're supposed to do with it?"

"I've never used this before," she pointed out. "And you should have thought of that before you got into a fight with a door."

"Table," he corrected, then groaned.

"Ah, I knew there was more to the story, but I still don't think I want to know all the details. OK, sit still, I'm not sure I have the right color, so I might have to try a different one if this shade doesn't work."

"I can't believe you talked me into this," Wufei said, his cheeks flushing scarlet.

She uncapped the bottle and applied some of the contents to a wedge-shaped piece of foam, then started patting it gently over his left cheek.

"Stop blushing; it changes your skin tone too much," she chastised. "And if you'll remember, I merely suggested that you might not want to arrive at a meeting looking like you'd engaged in a barroom brawl." She stepped back a moment before using the foam applicator to blend in the concealer.

"This is embarrassing," he grumbled. "It's make-up."

"That will teach you to keep your nose out of other people's business," she said. "Now stop fidgeting or it will end up on your collar." She waved the beige tinted wedge menacingly.

"You think this is funny," he complained.

"Mmmm, but you knew that last night. I suspected you might hear from Milliardo Peacecraft today," she said, stepping back again. She closed one eye and held up her left thumb as if she were gauging a work of art.

"How did you know he was going to call?"

"I told you last night, Wufei," she reminded him. She shook her head and picked up a washcloth from the table, carrying it to the sink to run it under the faucet. She returned and wiped off all the foundation she'd applied. "This bamboo color is too pale for your skin tone," she said. "I will need to try the cashew instead."

"I thought you'd never used this before," he accused.

"When have you ever seen me spend hours in front of a mirror?" she pointed out. "You know, you can just waltz into that meeting if you feel that purple is a good color for you, but I think that might give the wrong impression to Milliardo Peacecraft, don't you?"

Wufei wanted to say the hell with it. He was a man, and men got into fights, didn't they?

Yes. Uncivilized men, usually, and he couldn't show any outward signs that could be interpreted ambiguously. He didn't know if the bruise would suggest impulsiveness, or weakness, or irrational behavior. He needed to keep any and all distractions away from Peacecraft. He and Duo had worked too hard for this.

"Much better," Meiran approved as she patted a second foam wedge on his cheek. "You'd make a very charming geisha, you know."

"I'm not Japanese," he growled.

She laughed at him again. "I'm so glad you cleared that up for me, Chang," she said, tapping him on the nose with the clean edge of the foam. "But I still think you're darn pretty."

He grabbed her wrist and pulled her into his lap. "Are you done yet?"

She blended the foundation a bit more and leaned back. "Mmm. I think so. You can check in the mirror before you go."

He wrapped his arms around her and she rested her head on his shoulder. "I'm sorry that this thing has taken up so much of my time," he said, running a hand through her hair.

"Wufei," she breathed against his neck. "I think coming here has been the best damn thing that's happened to us. You've just been so close to everything, it's hard for you to let the stone finish rolling to the bottom. You're not Sisyphus," she said. "Don't feel you need to push it back uphill."

He kissed the top of her head. "What about you?" he asked. "You seem to know an awful lot about what's been going on. Making deals with Hades himself?"

"As I pointed out yesterday," she murmured. "Some things are logical outcomes based on events that have previously unfolded. Duo did something that enraged Milliardo Peacecraft, and yet you still received a phone call, informing you to remain available in case Peacecraft decided to contact you again. I think he'd made his decision a long time ago to go ahead and do business with you and Duo, but he couldn't bear to admit to it without having time to accept it. I'm sure he also spent at least a little effort into exploring other available options.

"And I hate to say I believe in luck, but you and Duo do seem to have the devil's own at times, and this week has been full of rather promising outcomes, wouldn't you agree?"

"Mmm," he agreed, inhaling the scent of her shampoo. She got up from his lap so he could check her handiwork in the bathroom mirror. He examined his face first under the overhead lights, then using the ones on the sides of the mirror, and then again with both illuminating the room.

She'd done a great job blending it so there was no evidence of his rather unsuccessful encounter with Heero Yuy.

The thought of Duo spending time with that man still concerned him, and he frowned slightly as he fastened the top buttons of his shirt. He quickly knotted his tie and Meiran handed him his jacket on his way to the door leading to the hall.

"Knock 'em dead, Chang," she said, kissing the right side of his face. He reached out a hand to stroke her cheek with his thumb and pressed their foreheads together.

"Wait for me?" he asked.

"With bated breath," she smiled. "Now get going. Take no prisoners."

He had his hand on the doorknob before she spoke again.

"Wufei?"

He turned to face her.

"Don't worry about Duo. No matter how much it looks like he might be making a mistake, he needs to work this out for himself. Don't interfere."

"Meiran..."

"No, no," she shook her head. "I told you, I don't know anything, but I know what I feel. All I can tell you is...I trust Heero."

He was floored by that statement, even though he'd suspected as much ever since the night she'd spoken to Yuy at the gallery.

"I'm not telling you to do the same," she added. "But I think you need to let Duo determine if he feels that way on his own. Without any input from you, one way or another."

He nodded and turned to leave a second time before remembering something. He quickly walked back to his wife and kissed her on the mouth this time.

"I love you," he said brusquely, then turned and walked out of the apartment.

She smiled at the closed door.

"I love you, too, you pigheaded idiot."

Meiran put away the cosmetics and glanced at the running shoes near the door, then at the vintage crime novel she'd placed on the coffee table the previous evening.

The hell with it. She would indulge in the satisfaction of finishing the last few chapters before going out for a run. She wasn't required to be at the apartment waiting for Wufei when he got home, but she wanted to be, and his meeting wasn't even going to start for a couple of hours. She didn't necessarily believe in women's intuition, but she couldn't deny the feeling that things were going to change very drastically today. It had been a week full of revelations for her and her husband. Perhaps they weren't the only ones finding that life was full of unexpected surprises. Alchemists throughout history were never successful at turning iron into gold, but there was something inherently valuable about iron itself, making it more suitable than gold for some purposes.

She removed a sports drink from the refrigerator and sat down with the book Heero had mentioned offhandedly several evenings ago. She uncapped the bottle, took a long swallow, and then opened the book to the section she had marked.

Half an hour later she flipped back several pages to reread the final confrontation between Brigid O'Shaughnessy and Sam Spade.

__

"Now you're lying. You're lying if you say you don't know down in your heart that, in spite of anything I've done, I love you." 

The corners of her eyes crinkled slightly, and she skimmed the next page to find one particular line of Sam's that had caught her eye. There it was, near the bottom of the page.

__

"Listen. When a man's partner is killed he's supposed to do something about it. It doesn't make any difference what you thought of him. He was your partner and you're supposed to do something about it." 

Life often imitated art, if things weren't interpreted so literally, she thought, then turned the page again to find Brigid's last question to Sam.

__

"Look at me...and tell me the truth. Would you have done this to me if the falcon had been real and you had been paid your money?"

She closed the book and set it aside, then picked up the bottle and held it between her knees.

She'd told Wufei to let Duo make his own decisions, but that didn't mean she didn't worry about their friend just as much. She'd asked Duo if he was happy, and he hadn't answered. He'd merely commented that Hilde had suggested he might be gay, his tone of voice the same as if commenting on the weather.

She'd seen the way Heero watched Duo at the gallery without being obvious, and had not failed to notice Duo's hand on Heero's lower back as he introduced him to a few people that same night.

Duo had reacted very strongly when Wufei punched Heero. As far as she knew, Duo had not attempted to call her husband all day yesterday, although she supposed that was a bold conclusion to make considering Wufei's phone had been turned off. If he had, he certainly hadn't left any messages, because Wufei's phone hadn't beeped to alert him to check his voice mail.

She'd known that if Milliardo Peacecraft were going to call at all, he'd wait until the last possible minute, so she hadn't worried about Wufei missing an important call. People were very much the same, no matter where one went. She almost wished she'd had a chance to meet this Milliardo Peacecraft. She'd seen him from a distance, but would have enjoyed seeing him in action, to judge how he measured against Wufei and Duo. All she'd been able to determine was it seemed he was a bit protective of his sister, based on his reaction to seeing her with Heero. She already knew that Heero would be just as interesting to watch. It was a shame that Heero wasn't involved in the whole Peacecraft deal. That would certainly make for some volatile corporate dynamics.

She got up from the couch and finished her sports drink before going into the bedroom to change into her running shorts. A three-mile run seemed reasonable. It would give her plenty of time to come back and shower, make lunch, and then relax with _Nightmare Town_, a collection of short stories, three of which also featured Spade. It would be nice to have an opportunity to discuss them with Heero, if the opportunity ever arose.

It wasn't until she'd managed to cover the distance of about a mile before she realized one of the reasons she had been so drawn to Heero, whom she'd found she had quite a bit in common with.

In some ways, it seemed that Heero was also very much like her husband.

~~~~~

Heero had immediately turned to the balcony after the phone rang, recognizing the sound as the signal that they were approaching their final lap. The manner of their parting had been decided by Duo, and it was up to him to see it through. He heard Duo's side of the conversation, noticed the way Duo's voice had taken on a slightly higher pitch. Heero tried not to think of the way it sounded like Duo was recovering from a sense of loss that he didn't quite understand. Patience, he reminded himself for the umpteenth time.

When Duo disconnected the call, he saw Heero standing there and staring at the sky, looking so much like he had the previous night that any residual anger on Duo's part dissipated. He was surprised to realize he wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around Heero and beg him to stay until he got back from this thrice damned meeting. He said nothing, but he did take up a stance next to the other double door leading to the balcony.

Heero swallowed. He didn't know if he was making it better or worse, but certain things needed to be said before the adage about the first day of the rest of his life could be considered fitting. The reality of their situation had to be dealt with. Duo's earlier comments had given him the idea on how to proceed. They both needed to view what was between them as it was. Not gleaming and lustrous, but tarnished and dented. Something still worth saving, though; something worth taking in hand and restoring to what it could be.

Heero was willing to devote a lot of time into looking through the layers of grime to reveal the hidden luster of the palace treasure. He was no longer sure if the same held true for Duo, who seemed more comfortable with mystery and challenges only when he'd had a hand in forming them or was reasonably certain of success.

Knowing all this didn't make what he was about to say any easier, even if he was sure this was what Duo needed. It likely wasn't the best approach to take, but there was a time limit to be taken into consideration. That phone call had cut their already dwindling time together down to almost nothing. Make this performance count, Yuy. It'll be good practice for you, knowing what you know now, so throw yourself into the role.

"Our contract expires today," Heero said evenly. "Meals and incidentals were part of my compensation package." His tone implied he was going to collect every last bit of what Duo had promised, too, putting their relationship back in its proper perspective. Employer and employee. Randy playboy and overpriced hooker. The way it should have been all along.

Duo's hands fisted at his sides before he uncurled his fingers and shook his head. Fuck. What now? Was he supposed to fix this? Did Heero feel like Duo had come out the victor, meaning that Heero had lost? How did things manage to get so complicated in such a short period of time? He didn't have time to deal with this right now. He didn't know if he'd have time to deal with it ever.

"Will you be here when I come back?" he asked, wanting to kick himself for the slightly pleading tone that entered his voice.

"I think I will go out for breakfast," Heero said.

Duo had no idea what that might be implying in terms of the question he'd asked, but perhaps it was better that way. He needed to get going. He averted his eyes when Heero turned and walked past him, and breathed easier when he realized Heero had no intention of stopping and pinning that penetrating gaze on him.

He couldn't resist peeking out from under his bangs as Heero ran his hand along the desk and picked up one of the keycards.

"Duo."

He refused to turn around and acknowledge Heero, but that didn't seem to faze him one bit. Perhaps Heero knew he was listening.

"_Dum spiro, spero_," Heero said softly. Duo started slightly. It seemed as though he'd heard someone throw out an occasional Latin phrase in the not so distant past.

He held his breath until he heard the soft click of the door close behind Heero. He waited more than a sufficient amount of time for the elevator to have brought Heero to the lobby, where he assumed Heero would be eating breakfast, then turned and left the balcony.

He noticed the pile of money still stacked on the table and breathed a sigh of relief, one that seemed distinctly at odds with the decision he'd made.

'It's for your own good, Heero, as much as it is for mine,' he thought, swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat.

Except he hadn't said that, and he had no intentions of doing so. It was better this way, and he knew that Heero would come to reason eventually and agree with him. This was why he never got close to anyone he did business with. It was a liability, letting oneself actually care about the futures of the companies that were bought and sold. If he and Wufei weren't doing it, someone else would. Hadn't he and Heero discussed this already?

It was time to do what he did best. He was looking forward to the wrangling with Milliardo Peacecraft and whatever surprises he might have up his sleeve.

tbc

~~~~~

Transition elements: there are 38 elements considered "transition metals." All metals are malleable and ductile, and they all conduct both electricity and heat. What categorizes these thirty-eight as transition metals is the valence electrons (those used to combine with other elements to form compounds) are present in more than one shell (which probably only makes sense if you've taken at least one chemistry class). Of all the transition metals, only iron, nickel, and cobalt produce a magnetic field.   
Melting point of gold (Au): 1947.97°F (~1064°C)   
Melting point of iron (Fe): 2795.0°F (~1535.0 °C)   
Both are transition elements

__

Feng shui (pronounced fung shway, something that really threw me off) is a Chinese system for arranging one's environment to maximize internal harmony. Literally it is derived from the words for wind (feng) and water (shui). I first heard about it from Ben, a character in Comedy Central's long-since-cancelled _Dr. Katz: Professional Therapist_ (in Squigglevision!). Ben, voiced by H. Jon Benjamin, threw himself wholeheartedly into it after finding a book titled _Feng Shui The Fun Way_ (and I think he mispronounced it, too). More useless trivia: Jon Benjamin also provides the voice of Coach John McGuirk on _Home Movies_, currently airing in the US on Cartoon Network's Adult Swim Sunday nights.

Sisyphus - sentenced to an eternity in Hades of pushing a stone up a hill, only to have it roll all the way to the bottom just as the top was in sight. He did pull a few fast ones as far as cheating death, including tricking Persephone into allowing him to return to earth because he'd been buried without his fare for Charon, the ferryman of the River Styx. Those buried without a coin under their tongues were doomed to wander the river's edge until they found the pauper's entrance to Hades. Keep in mind that Hades was the place for all departed souls, not just those who had earned the displeasure of the gods.

~~~~~

Nevi - I didn't think I'd get two new chapters out this quickly, so I'm glad I can feed your nonobsession some more!

Kanon/161386 - I, too, often find myself surrounded by fools. Half the time I say something and I get blank stares or an outright "what the _hell_ are you talking about?" I'm glad you found some relevance to Milliardo's role. I agonized for a while as to what order to put things into for Sunday ("a while" meaning "four days"), so it pleases me that it makes sense to you!

Lainy the Daft - I know, I know. Cliffhangers are evil. And yet I seem to be addicted to them as well, and not only from a writing standpoint. Of course they are much easier to deal with when there isn't much of a wait, I suppose!

CuriousDreamWeaver - yes, there is a lot that's been laid out on the table between Duo and Heero. Thanks for letting me know you detected the strain and awkwardness between them. It's good to know that came through loud and clear.

Demothi - you ask a very good question, but I will let you be the one to determine the answer as you continue to read.

Kary-Asakura - ah, Dorothy. She was both a lot of fun and horribly scary to write, because I so wanted to keep her in character.

ruby01 - at the chapter you posted your review, you were only halfway through the story at present, so you know that things are going to be revealed "in good time." As you must know by now, my style is about as far from 'hurrying up to the point' as you can get! I confess I do enjoy stringing things a long a bit much, but I also feel it is necessary to fully show all the facets of the characters' personalities, without coming out and SAYING what those facets are. Half the fun is in the journey, and this particular fic has been a long but enjoyable ride. If you are still with it, thanks for hanging in there! 


	50. Multum in Parvo

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The Edulcoration of Duo Maxwell - 50/?

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Warnings: AU, yaoi, coarse language, violence, angst, cliffhangers, red herrings, mention of various vices, random bits of useless knowledge, occasionally explicit sex, enough footnotes to choke an army of horses.

Spoilers: Nah

Disclaimer: I don't really need to be Captain Obvious here, do I? No ownership, no money being made, yadda yadda. Written for fun, not profit.

Archived at:   
http : // www . atsui . org  
http : // www.gundam-wing-diaries.150m . com /gw/Mookie/gwmookie . htm

__

Edulcorate (verb) - To free from harshness (as of attitude); to soften

~~~~~

****

Chapter 50 - Multum in Parvo

"You seem to have been very thorough, my dear. Perhaps, if I may say so, just a little too thorough. I always think, you know, that one should have a plan. It's like my friend, Mrs. Eldritch; she had such a nice little maid...Please forgive me. So apt, I know, to fly off at a tangent. But one thing does remind one of another. And sometimes that is helpful." - Jane Marple, _Strange Jest_

~~~~~

Quatre turned on his side for the tenth time in less than a minute, unable to get comfortable in the unfamiliar bed.

After Trowa had left the bar the night before, he'd been at a loss as to what to do. Cathy had glared at him a few times, but he hadn't budged, unable to tear his eyes away from the door, which someone had finally closed some time ago.

Then she had leaned over the bar and said, with her voice full of meaning, "I think you should go."

She didn't elaborate, but Quatre was pretty sure she suspected he wasn't old enough to be there, and he supposed he should count himself lucky. He'd slid off the barstool and trudged home. Where else could he go, after all? Cathy had kicked him out of the bar, but it really hadn't mattered. With neither Heero nor Trowa there, the bar no longer offered the same comforting feeling he'd grown fond of.

He had been unable to sleep alone in his bed, and had fallen into Heero's once again. But the reason for his restlessness had little to do with that. In fact, he actually felt a tiny sense of reassurance, being able to smell Heero faintly on the pillows and sheets.

Perhaps it was the waning effects of the alcohol that made Heero's scent less enticing that usual. He tried to remember their first and only kiss, but all his mind kept returning to the look on Trowa's face before he'd stormed out of the bathroom.

Quatre even let his hand slide down the front of his pants, not caring that it wasn't exactly something you did in your best friend's bed, but he couldn't conjure up the visual image from the shower the previous day. The intensity wasn't there, and the picture was all wrong now.

He pulled his hand out and turned onto his stomach, burying his head into Heero's pillow and groaning loudly.

You've made a mess of things, Quatre. A complete mess. What do you plan on doing about it now?

He groaned again and this time picked up the pillow and buried his head under it.

The phone rang. Their only phone was in the kitchen, and Quatre wanted to kill whoever was on the other end before he realized who it was. He scrambled out of Heero's bed and nearly tripped as he ran to the kitchen.

"Heero!" he exclaimed as he picked up the phone.

"Quatre."

Quatre was weak with relief. He'd needed Heero so very much. Before he could ask why Heero was calling or when he was coming home, he heard the other man speak again.

Quatre gripped the phone with both hands as he processed what Heero was asking him.

"Breakfast? Where?"

He nodded, although Heero couldn't see him. "Yes, I have money. Can you give me enough time to shower and catch a cab?"

"OK," he said after Heero agreed that it would be prudent of him to do so. "Got it. The Tiara. See you in thirty."

He went to his room and opened the tiny closet, shoving all his 'work clothes' aside until he got to the last item on the rack. He pulled the pants off the hanger and looked at them critically. They'd have to do.

Now for that shower.

~~~~~

A young blonde was fast-forwarding through a videotape to bypass the commercial advertisements when the phone near her elbow rang, startling her. She paused the tape and picked up the receiver.

"Hello?"

She smiled broadly. "Hi, Nadia! I just knew you'd give in and agree to have breakfast with me one of these days!"

Her smile faded, and she listened carefully to the woman on the other end.

"Oh. Your car? Holy...you're OK, though, right? Yes, that's fine. I can pick you up. Where are you right now?"

Nadia was in the middle of giving her directions when the phone beeped.

"Rats," Janet said. "I hate to do this, but can you hold one moment?"

She clicked the flash button to accept the incoming call. Her eyes grew wide and she nodded eagerly as she listened.

"Sure, that's no problem at all. No, really Wufei, I don't mind. In fact, I think this might be rather exciting! There's just one thing...have you called anyone else, and if not, do you think the company can spring for _two_ of us pulling double time today?"

~~~~~

Heero felt the urge to pace, a habit he'd thought he'd long since weaned himself of. He leaned against the window to Owen's Market, keeping an eye out for Quatre.

The walk to the Renaissance Hotel had only taken fifteen minutes, so he had at least another fifteen to wait. He spent the time reacquainting himself with more of his old habits; watching people entering and leaving the grocery store, observing the behavioral quirks of some of them, determining at a glance their financial and educational background. Eventually he gave up entirely and started thinking about his conversation with Duo.

He pushed himself away from the building as soon as he saw Quatre's blond hair and familiar carriage from a distance. It struck him that Quatre had a rather regal bearing, and wondered again what had driven his roommate to prostitution.

He met Quatre a block from the hotel, and felt a tiny stab of guilt at the look of overwhelming relief on Quatre's face.

"I was beginning to think I'd never see you again," Quatre said. "I have a lot I want to talk to you about."

Heero nodded. The same was true for him. They both turned to the entrance, but before either could reach for the closest door, it opened.

A slender blonde woman stepped out and made immediate eye contact with Quatre, whose entire body started with surprise as he realized who he'd just, almost literally, run into. When she spoke, he noticed that her voice was as chilling as he'd remembered it being.

"Quatre Raberba Winner."

~~~~~

Catherine Bloom emptied the last scoop of coffee into the filter and flicked the switch the BREW before turning her attention to the stove.

Trowa was standing near the sink, looking out the window. The sun was directly outside that side of the apartment this time of day, and he squinted slightly, but didn't blink. The brightness was making his eyes water slightly, but he did not seem to notice, or perhaps he simply wasn't bothered by it enough to drop the curtain he was holding.

He sat at the kitchen table after she placed his plate in front of one of the chairs and ate, seeming mindless to what he was putting in his mouth.

She sat across from him with her own plate untouched. She wanted to reach out and brush his hair from his face. Brother or not, she could safely admit that he was a handsome young man, and it was a shame he hid his face from view.

Of course Trowa was very good at concealing things.

Their jobs shouldn't have really been all that different, but Catherine did not do undercover work. She didn't have her brother's infiltration skills, or whatever else it was that he'd needed as part of the Recon forces.

She'd taken so much for granted. He'd been even more closed off since he came home. It had been a shock, after he'd expressed his excitement about qualifying for the Special Forces, to see him at her commencement ceremony.

"What are you thinking about?" Trowa's quiet voice permeated the silence.

"My graduation," she said. "Seeing you there."

He set his fork down and his eyes, partially concealed as they were, studied her intently.

"I was happy to see you," she said, sounding guilty. "I didn't know, Trowa."

He remained silent, and then he smiled at her. "Kern County."

Confused, she nodded. "Yes."

His smile approached a grin. "'We'll kick your ass,'" he quoted, gesturing with his fingers. Had he always had that habit, she wondered, before realizing he'd just made a joke.

She laughed. "And take your donuts, too." She wagged a finger at him. "I'll have you know that so far I've gotten two mugs, a Frisbee, and a damned teddy bear."

"I think I'd like a cup of coffee in one of those mugs," Trowa said, but his smile had slipped a little.

She shook her head. "They're in my locker, but I'd be happy to give you one of them. You can have the whole kit and caboodle, while we're at it. I'm sure I'll end up getting another one if someone realizes mine has gone AWOL."

He nodded absently, and she frowned. The brief flash of humor he'd shown was already gone.

Finally she decided to grasp the bull by the horns. She'd never pulled any punches with her brother, and she didn't see the point in starting now.

"What you said about Article 125," she began. "You were serious."

He nodded again, but at least he was looking at her this time.

"Yes."

"Trowa-"

He shook his head, causing her to falter slightly, but she charged ahead despite the nagging of her conscience.

"Do you love him?"

"I appreciate your concern, Catherine," Trowa replied, "but I would also appreciate it if you'd refrain from speculation about things you know nothing about." His tone of voice indicated that he would not welcome any further discussion on the topic. 

He took a sip of his coffee. 'Besides,' he thought, 'if I did, you certainly wouldn't be the first one to know.'

~~~~~

"Dorothy Catalonia," Quatre replied.

She glanced at Heero, then back at Quatre. "Interesting company you keep." Her lips curled derisively. "Tell me, how's the family? Have you spoken to Almira recently? I understand she's taken over a good portion of your responsibilities."

Quatre ignored the question, merely bowed his head in greeting and said, "you look lovely this morning, Dorothy. How was your breakfast? I trust you had a satisfying repast?"

Her eyes narrowed slightly, but she shrugged indifferently.

"Satisfaction is a relative term," she said. "And I am always careful that I am not the smallest fish in the pond." Her eyes flicked to Heero again. "You never know when those you thought were your allies may turn on you."

Her eyes lit up as her smile grew a bit wider, and she turned to address Heero.

"You seem to make a habit of dining with the affluent."

Heero showed no outward sign of her comment having any impact on him, although he was surprised that she knew that he'd been the one dining with Relena the other day. Fortunately he hadn't had to spend any time figuring out who she was, thanks to Quatre.

"But then," Dorothy continued. "So do I."

She tilted her head toward a familiar longhaired figure who was walking toward a taxi that had just pulled up to the curb.

Suddenly the tall blond man stopped and turned. From that brief distance, it seemed as though his eyes had locked onto Heero's, and Quatre looked from one to the other curiously.

Milliardo got into the cab, acting as if he and Heero hadn't just had the briefest clash of wills, and Dorothy smiled again.

Before she could say anything, Heero spoke.

"A word of caution," he began, causing a flicker of amusement in Dorothy's eyes.

He met her unwavering gaze with his own. "Eventually the eight mortal heads were not enough of a distraction for the warrior who succeeded in slaying the hydra."

She made a snort of near disgust. "Heracles had help in defeating that beast."

Heero nodded. "But not everyone is able to recognize Iolaus as a threat in time."

He nodded to Quatre, who gratefully opened the door so the two of them could enter.

Dorothy watched the door close behind them, then laughed lightly.

"You certainly do have interesting allies, Quatre Raberba Winner," she said.

For the briefest of moments, she looked no older than her nineteen years before she walked to her grandfather's car and got in.

tbc

~~~~~

__

multum in parvo - much in a little

For a pic of the Kern County Sheriff's Department vehicle bearing the department "motto" that Trowa teased Catherine about, try accessing it here (crossing my fingers and hoping it works): http : // home.comcast . net /~mookietwinkie/kern . jpg

The story accompanying this little prank can be found here:  
http : // kget . com/news/local/story.aspx?content_id=ed9cc47f-da34-405c-a679-9591ada281dc

While you're at it, feel free to purchase some fine merchandise featuring this bold new maxim: http : // www.cafeshops . com / wellkickyourass

The nine-headed hydra - one of the Twelve Labors of Heracles (Hercules in Roman mythology). Of the nine heads, one was immortal, and in order to kill the beast, that head needed to be cut off. However, if one of the other eight heads was attacked, it would simply sprout a new one. Some accounts indicate that more than one new head would grow in its place. Iolaus assisted Heracles by cauterizing each stump before a new head could grow, enabling the Greek hero to finally reach the immortal head, through process of elimination. Iolaus was the son of Heracles' brother, Iphicles. 

An interesting side note - apparently some texts also suggest the relationship between the two as erastes and eromenos (or to be blunt, lovers). There are two sites that provide a decent explanation of this more-than-meets-the-eye relationship, and of course you realize I will provide the links! Don't be put off by the word "pederasty" in the first link.  
http : // www . truthtree . com / pederasty . shtml  
http : // depthome.brooklyn.cuny . edu / classics / dunkle / athnlife / homosex.htm


	51. Urges

****

The Edulcoration of Duo Maxwell - 51/?

~~~~~

Warnings: AU, yaoi, coarse language, violence, angst, cliffhangers, red herrings, mention of various vices, random bits of useless knowledge, occasionally explicit sex, enough footnotes to choke an army of horses.

Spoilers: Nah

Disclaimer: I don't really need to be Captain Obvious here, do I? No ownership, no money being made, yadda yadda. Written for fun, not profit.

Archived at:   
http : // www . atsui . org  
http : // www . gundam-wing-diaries . 150m . com / gw / Mookie / gwmookie . htm

__

Edulcorate (verb) - To free from harshness (as of attitude); to soften

~~~~~

****

Chapter 51 - Urges

"It's very difficult to explain, but when you come across a peculiar thing you notice it." - Jane Marple, _The Case of the Perfect Maid_

~~~~~

Despite Quatre's outwardly calm appearance, inside he was a bundle of nerves, made worse by his unexpected run-in with Dorothy Catalonia.

It had been a shock to hear Trowa introduce him by his full name, but another thing entirely to see someone who actually knew him "back then," back when he was still the Winner heir. Back when he'd still felt in charge of his future, despite all the criticisms heaped upon him by Almira.

Although he was eager to see Heero again, he'd taken the bus instead of a cab, needing that brief feeling of anonymity, of being just another face in the crowd. He would not have waited at the bus stop for long, having promised to meet Heero within half an hour, but the fates seemed to smile upon him, as it arrived at the stop near the apartment less than a minute after he did. He had taken the quickest shower of his life, and in his haste to get dressed, had pulled a button loose from his dress shirt. He'd had to go back into the closet to find another, angrily pushing aside all the ones that he'd regularly worn at the bar and on the streets, unable to bring himself to don a single one of them. He found a suitable shirt once he'd calmed himself enough to slowly slide each hanger over the closet rod and actually looking at the garment before discarding it in his mind.

He had given up wearing that white Oxford months ago as soon as he'd realized it had inadvertently gotten mixed in with the same load of laundry as Heero's then-brand-new red shirt. Heero had wanted to wash the shirt prior to wearing in order to avoid the transfer of dye to his skin, and Quatre had volunteered to take care of that chore. It had gone right from the dryer to the closet and been promptly forgotten.

That had been shortly after they'd made love. Quatre still considered it more than sex, even if they hadn't shared a kiss since that first night. Heero had decided to acquire several new articles of clothing before following in Quatre's footsteps. Most of the new additions to Heero's wardrobe were vivid jewel tones, and all of them were of a rather shoddy quality. His concern regarding possible dye-to-skin transfer was not unfounded.

Quatre supposed he'd wanted to assume laundry duty in the hopes that all the colors would bleed together into some horrific tint, rendering them useless and forcing Heero to rethink his decision, as if he would based on a mere wardrobe mishap. Deep down he'd known that Heero's mind couldn't be changed, but he felt grasping at straws was better than doing nothing. Besides, since all the shirts and pants were dark, they suffered only the slightest alteration of hue, if at all. It had been a passive aggressive move on his part, and it might have been some minor karmic justice that only his shirt had suffered.

Quatre thought he might have gladly given up on the prostitution gig, though, had Heero been willing to make a go of a more permanent relationship.

So many missed opportunities.

He realized Heero's intent gaze was on him and he sighed. His painful woe-is-me trip down Memory Lane was going to have to wait.

"Dorothy and I go way back," he said. "We both attended a boarding school in Sheridan, Oregon. My eldest sister, Almira, met her at one of Delphi's parent's weekends, because my father was otherwise occupied. It could have been the renovation to the new wing of our estate, or the acquisition of a customer contract he'd been courting. I only remember being upset that he wasn't there, and even more upset that he'd thought that sending Almira in his place would make up for it.

"She and Dorothy took to each other on sight, which should have told me right then and there the kind of person Dorothy was, but I suppose I didn't realize how ruthless Almira was, either. She'd always been less than gracious when it came to me.

"You might suspect by now that my family has money," Quatre sighed. "In which case you are also wondering what the hell I'm doing here. I can't tell you how often I've wondered that myself."

He paused as the waiter came by to take their order, giving Heero an opportunity to study him. Quatre was dressed in what could best be described as business casual, in sharp contrast to his typical wardrobe, which was designed to entice in a deliberately careless manner. It reminded Heero of the indigo shirt he'd worn yesterday, with its open neck, giving just bare hint of exposed flesh, rather than something skin tight and indecent.

After their orders had been placed, Heero reached across the table to pluck a stray thread from Quatre's sleeve. When Quatre looked at him in surprise, he merely shrugged.

"I remember that shirt," Heero said, gesturing to the red thread before flicking it off his fingers and letting it fall to the floor. Quatre opened and closed his mouth once or twice, and then decided to simply forge ahead with the story.

"Dorothy was always good at piecing together things, based on very little information. You'd think the fact that she seems to jump to conclusions would result in poor judgements, but she has rarely been wrong about someone. Her mind processes things that most people would consider insignificant, but she files it away, ready to recall the most trivial things at a moment's notice."

He chuckled softly.

"One of the guys in my dorm once said her eyebrows were probably alien antennae. I doubt I would have been introduced to my father's business as young as I was if Almira hadn't made Dorothy's acquaintance. Miss Catalonia made quite an impression," he said, making a face. "My sister thought we'd make a formidable team, Dorothy and I. Almira started pushing for us to spend time together during school breaks. She'd invite Dorothy over on some shabby pretense, then find a reason to excuse herself, leaving me alone with Dorothy.

"Dorothy seemed amused by Almira's machinations. I don't know if she actually agreed that a marriage between us was a good idea. It would not have been a love match, but I wouldn't put it past Dorothy to have gone ahead with it if she thought it would provide her with the resources she needed for whatever game she was playing. Sometimes I wondered at the lengths to which she would go.

"I was only fourteen when Almira decided that a merger between Zodiac and Winner Industries would be the best plan for our future, which was, of course, the real reason for pushing me toward Dorothy. She pulled out no stops, either. I remember she'd invited Dorothy over to go swimming in our pool. Dorothy had a rather mature figure back then. Of course, Almira had no way of knowing that by then, I'd already realized that no amount of cleavage on display was going to sway me. Maybe if she'd paraded a man in a G-string in front of me, that could have worked. I told you I was only fourteen. Part of me would like to tell Almira that it's her fault I'm gay because of her forcing Dorothy on me, just to see the look on her face."

He gave a regretful smile. "That's not to say that I'm ashamed I'm homosexual. I think I was, when I first realized it. I was embarrassed by it. Gave up a lot of things I enjoyed, just to make myself seem more macho, as if my sexual preference meant I was nothing more than a female with external plumbing. And you have no idea how hard it is to appear butch when you have blond hair and blue eyes. You need width and breadth and an intimidating glare to get people to think of you as little more than a child.

"Dorothy, on the other hand, I doubt has ever looked angelic in her life. She never did in any of the years I've known her. She's always had this look of hidden knowledge, like she was keeping a lot of things to herself, until the time was right. I'd hate to play poker against her. It was a hundred and ten in the shade one summer, and the moment Dorothy came out on the deck, I felt like the sun had gone out. She seemed quite pleased the summer of our fifteenth year, when those of us enrolled in the Business Seminar went on a ten-day field trip.

"We visited companies in three major cities during that trip. We had the opportunity to speak with professionals to get acquainted with the world of business and finance. The Chicago Board of Trade and the Mercantile Exchange, Fidelity Investments and the Federal Reserve Bank of Boston, the World Trade Center and the New York Stock Exchange. Heero, only business VIPs are allowed to see what we did at the Stock Exchange! Then we finished with a visit to the United Nations building. In all three cities, we actually had nighttime activities that had nothing to do with business or finance or the corporate dance. They brought us to see Broadway shows and comedy revues!

"The school went all out with this trip to encompass both learning and recreation, and there was Dorothy with that secret little smile of hers the whole time. It got worse on the last leg of the trip, when we were in New York. I swear, it looked like she was planning something, but she _always_ looked like that. Like she knew something you didn't know, and you were going to suffer for your lack of knowledge once she decided to put her latest game into play.

"Dorothy seems to view people as pawns on a chessboard. No," Quatre shook his head. "She is more like the student who spreads rumors around the schoolyard, but attribute the source of those rumors to someone else, merely to incite a fight between two otherwise innocent parties. In fact, she's done it. I've seen the look on her face when she steps back to watch the sparks fly. The guys I've performed fellatio on have never had the same look in their eyes that Dorothy would get when she watched the fruits of her labors.

"Are you familiar with Norse mythology, Heero?"

Heero shook his head. "I've heard of Asgard, and Thor and Odin, but that's about it."

"So you haven't heard of Loki?"

Heero recognized the name, and nodded, but Quatre was warming up to his subject.

"Dorothy is like the human incarnation of Loki. An enigma - both hero and enemy to the Aesir. He recovered Thor's hammer after it was stolen, but was responsible for the death of Balder. Sometimes it seems his motives were never really very clear, nor could you tell what side he'd take. That is Dorothy, in a nutshell.

"Shortly after that trip to the UN, Dorothy's grandfather lost his position with Zodiac, and she had to leave Delphi. A lot of students were quite relieved to see her go, but I knew then that wasn't the last I'd see of her. Almira was still holding out for a match between Dorothy and me despite what happened with Zodiac.

"I never expected our next meeting to be under these circumstances. If she doesn't already know what I've been up to since I left home, she will find out. She's worse than a bloodhound."

Quatre wanted to ask Heero about the staring match he'd had with the tall blond outside, but he had more pressing things on his mind. He couldn't help but feel that he should know that man, though, especially considering Dorothy's smug look. It wasn't just directed at Heero. He knew that for a fact. However, Dorothy liked to make one think that she knew a lot more than she let on. It was one of the reasons she was able to acquire so many dirty secrets. People were basically naive when it came to Dorothy. She never came out and said what she knew, even when it was obvious that she did know something. Therefore she acted the same whether she had dirt on someone or not. For some reason a lot of people assumed that meant that she was omniscient. Quatre wouldn't go that far, but he knew that she was probably the closest to it, given enough time. She could make a living as an extortionist, but that wasn't her style. She liked to see conflict, and wouldn't be happy accepting money in order for it to be avoided.

He was curious as to how she knew Heero, but he was tired of discussing Dorothy Catalonia. He wanted to put all his cards on the table for once, and pretend that he had been just fine with the way things went after he'd offered his heart to Heero.

His stomach lurched at the thought, which was rather untimely as their breakfast arrived just at that moment.

~~~~~

"Now that you know about my illicit affair with Dorothy Catalonia," Quatre said. "Care to share anything from your week of hobnobbing?"

He hadn't meant to put it like that, but it seemed he had misplaced his tact ever since Heero had gotten into that Ferrari. He'd thought things would somehow, magically, be better once he was face to face with the man he'd pined over for so long, but he was finding it difficult to say what was in his heart. In fact, he wasn't sure anymore just what was in his heart.

"We dined at the Samurai," Heero said. "We attended an art gallery showing, and an outdoor carnival of sorts. It seemed like a poor excuse for people to ingratiate themselves and pretend they were only there for the side show entertainment."

"_Le Carnivale des Rêves_," Quatre replied. When Heero raised an eyebrow in question, he added, "the carnival of dreams. I don't know why anyone thought that was a good name for it, or why they used French to name it, but I've heard of it. An old schoolmate of my father's used to attend every year, merely to see what new activities had been included. 

"It's supposed to be an opportunity to bring the family for a relaxing day away from the office, but it's never served that purpose. I would never subject any children of mine to the piranha that attend. I know I'm making a blanket statement, but I shudder to think of running into Dorothy Catalonia at a place like that. I can picture arrows going astray. The death of Balder, all over again."

Heero nodded. "The last broken pencil has been removed."

This time Quatre's eyebrow quirked upwards, and Heero shook his head. "Think of it as the house of cards collapsing."

Quatre sighed heavily. He wasn't sure if he and Heero were thinking of the same thing, but that seemed to summarize what the week had been leading up to.

"I am done, Quatre," Heero said suddenly.

"Heero?"

Heero shook his head again. "I'm done. I will not accept any more clients after this. In fact, this service contract has expired as well. I need to get my things out of there."

They fell silent for a moment, then Heero added, "I was thinking of calling Trowa."

Quatre's entire body tensed, and Heero looked at him appraisingly.

Once Quatre felt he was able to speak without his voice showing any signs of the roiling emotions inside, he spoke.

"I am quite capable of helping you carry everything down from the hotel room."

Heero looked at him curiously. "Quatre, Trowa is the only one I know who has a car."

"I can call a cab," Quatre said. "I took the bus here, and even after I pay for our breakfasts, I will have enough for cab fare back. You and I can grab whatever it is you need from the room, and then go back to the apartment."

Heero didn't reply, just fixed that intense gaze he sometimes had right on Quatre.

"I blew it," Quatre confessed. "Trowa and I...I guess you could say we got into a bit of a...tiff."

Heero waited for Quatre to continue, knowing that his roommate was debating on just how much to share.

"God, Heero," he said, rubbing his eyes. "I really did fuck things up. Somehow...Trowa looked at me like I'd...as if..." his eyebrows furrowed. "I could feel him, Heero," he said. "I never could before, but I could last night. I could feel him, and he felt betrayed."

Heero had never pretended to entirely understand Quatre's strange 'feelings,' but he knew that whenever he had been struggling his hardest to stuff memories of Kitty back into the dark recesses of his mind, Quatre chose those times to come over and talk with him, to place a hand on his shoulder, or to otherwise help him climb out of the abyss he'd fallen into.

He didn't know how Quatre always knew when it was Iria on the phone, but it was just part and parcel of who Quatre was. He didn't need to understand all there was about Quatre to know that he trusted Quatre.

His eyes widened briefly. It was true. Damn it, it was true. He trusted Quatre. He'd unintentionally lied to Duo that first day.

Trowa had felt betrayed. Heero had no idea what had happened, but he was pretty sure he could relate, as he'd felt the same way quite recently.

"_La traición no puede existir a menos que viva la confianza allí primero_," Heero said.

"Excuse me?" Quatre asked.

Heero looked startled, as if he wasn't sure where that had come from. He frowned. It seemed as though he'd heard that very thing recently, but couldn't begin to hazard a guess as to where.

"_La traición no puede existir a menos que viva la confianza allí primero_," he repeated. "Betrayal doesn't exist unless trust lives there first."

Heero took a bite of his toast, but found it difficult to swallow.

"He said I'd gotten exactly what I wanted from our arrangement," he whispered.

"Did you?" Quatre asked.

Heero shook his head. "I don't know."

He chewed his next bite slowly. Duo had acted more than angry when he'd said that. He'd been hurt.

Duo had felt betrayed.

"There's an Arabian proverb," Quatre said. "A wise man associating with the vicious becomes an idiot; a dog travelling with good men becomes a rational being. Think we're both idiots, Heero?"

Heero shook his head again, but he wasn't disagreeing.

"You weren't planning on killing yourself that day, were you?"

This time when Heero shook his head, he meant it as a direct response to Quatre's question.

"I'm sorry, Heero," Quatre said quietly. "I'm so, so sorry."

"Quatre, it's not your fault. I knew what I was doing. You didn't put a gun to my head. Sorry," he added, seeing Quatre wince. "I wasn't naive enough to not realize you were evading the real question. You did that because you don't know, do you? You didn't have the answer."

"I did," Quatre confessed. "I didn't until I met you, but once I did, I knew."

"I'm the one who should be sorry, Quatre."

Quatre laughed ruefully. "We make quite a pair, don't we? Two ships that pass in the night."

Heero frowned, not liking that particular cliche one bit. 

Quatre apologized again, despite Heero's dark look as he did so. "Sue me," he shrugged. "I can't help feeling guilty. It's my albatross, and I've grown quite fond of it." Heero's lips twitched slightly, and Quatre's formed into something that was almost a grin. "I know," he added. "My issues have issues."

"We come to love not by finding a perfect person, but by learning to see an imperfect person perfectly," Heero quoted.

Quatre leaned back in his seat and picked up his coffee cup. He held it aloft for nearly a minute before setting it back down.

"A personal maxim of yours?"

Heero was beginning to think he might be able to carry on the entire conversation just by shaking his head as he did so for the umpteenth time that morning.

"Not mine. Sam Keen. I once had to help someone who was taking a class in Romantic Literature. For some reason she found it incredibly boring."

Quatre looked curious. "An old girlfriend?"

Heero actually summoned a smile. "My little sister."

~~~~~

A dark-haired woman breathed a sigh of relief as her plane touched down. She thought she'd never arrive in Los Angeles.

After everyone had disembarked the prison shaped like a Boeing 727, she didn't think she'd be able to hear the word delta again without cringing. She reshouldered her carry-on bag as she walked out the main doors and climbed into one of the cabs lined up along the sidewalk. She was looking forward to the opportunity to freshen up at the hotel. Maybe she'd even grab a bite to eat before tracking down the man she'd come to see.

"The Loews Beverly Hills," she told the cabbie.

"The what?"

She wondered briefly if she'd get arrested for assault if she hauled off and punched him, but decided his head would be hard enough to hurt her hand should she try it. She was in no mood for this after the hellish game of musical planes she'd had to endure just to get here.

"The Loews Beverly Hills," she said slowly. "On..." she pulled out a scrap of paper. "South Beverwil."

"Ah, the old Renaissance Hotel," he said. "Gotcha. Hang on."

She wasn't at all surprised that he'd meant that literally as the cab tore away from the airport.

~~~~~

"They say you can't go home again," Quatre mused. "But Iria is always trying to convince me to do so. I wonder who is right?"

"Quatre."

"Yes, Heero?"

"Thank you."

Quatre was confused, and it was evident in his face. Heero managed a smaller version of his earlier smile.

"For showing me how good it could be." He reached across the table and interlaced his fingers with Quatre's before squeezing them lightly.

"Now what?"

Heero released Quatre's fingers. "Now we go to the hotel and I decide what I'm taking with me when I go."

"Will you be staying at the hotel any longer?"

"I haven't decided yet, but when I do make my exit, I'd rather not look like a pack mule."

Quatre laughed at the mental image that conjured up, then he pulled out enough money to cover their meal and a tip. He threw the bills on the table, and the two of them left the restaurant and walked to the distance to the Regent Beverly Wilshire.

"Heero," Quatre said once they'd entered the lobby. "Do you want me to...?"

Heero looked at Quatre a moment, then glanced around the lobby. "I'll be right back," he said, once he saw who he was looking for.

A minute later, Quatre found himself being led to a banquet room by a balding man wearing a conservative business suit and a loud tie while Heero took the elevator up to the penthouse suite.

He sucked in a breath when he saw what was in the room, and he risked a glance at the manager of guest services.

Howard gestured toward the piano. "Go ahead."

Quatre sat down and ran his hands lovingly over the keys, then tried to select a song from memory. After a few false starts, he found one that he'd always loved, and it wasn't long after that before he closed his eyes and lost himself in the melody. Once he'd finished that one, he began another.

Heero found him like that ten minutes later, and he felt a tiny tug at his heartstrings.

It was such a different picture from the night he'd found Duo there. Where Duo had clumsily played the same portion of a single song over and over, in an almost defiant manner, Quatre practically embodied the melancholy tune he was playing.

Heero understood why musicians attracted so many admirers. He could see anyone easily falling in love with the pianist. It was a side of Quatre that had been kept under wraps. The only time he'd ever seen his roommate give himself over to his desires was their single night together, and Heero had refused to take it any further.

Up until now, he'd always viewed Quatre as little more than a kid. He had long suspected that Quatre might be just barely legal, and he had pieced together enough information from Quatre's past experience with Dorothy to estimate Quatre as no older than twenty.

This Quatre, though, was a virile, passionate young man. His fingers stumbled a few times, but he didn't allow himself to be dissuaded. The music touched a part of Heero's soul that he'd only allowed break free within the past week.

Heero was afraid to say anything when Quatre's hands stilled over the keys. He watched as the first man he'd ever made love to slowly got to his feet. Quatre turned to face Heero and their eyes locked.

"Heero," he said, his voice huskier than Heero had ever heard it.

Heero closed his eyes, afraid if he opened them he'd give into the fleeting temptation to close the distance between them and capture Quatre's lips with his own.

One thing was clear. Until he was sure what the hell he was doing, he could not go back to the apartment with Quatre.

~~~~~

Duo had arrived at the office before anyone else, and he'd realized he had no idea what time things were going to get rolling. Wufei had mentioned assembling their team, so Duo assumed that meant his partner was taking care of calling whomever he thought they'd need for this last showdown with Peacecraft.

He picked up a thick folder from his desk and remembered that Janet had given it to him earlier in the week. He would just walk it over to the legal department and return it. Perhaps the physical activity would help clear his mind before he had to sit and pore over documents for however long it took. It was one aspect of the job he truly disliked. No wonder Wufei was so pleased to have the paralegals doing the brunt of the research and the interpretation of the fine print.

He wasn't sure where to put the file when he got there, and he didn't want to interfere with whatever system Janet might have in place. After glancing around for a safe repository, he placed it on the table that was empty save for the stereo.

His fingers fiddled with the dial and he turned it on.

"Guess I always knew inside," Barry Manilow crooned. "I wouldn't have you for a long time..."

Duo snapped off the radio and walked right out again. He hoped to hell Wufei was planning on arriving soon.

~~~~~

Heero had his hands shoved in his pockets and his head lowered, but he knew he was being tailed. It hadn't been for long. He didn't need to turn to see the limousine before he heard Relena Peacecraft's voice call to him.

"Heero!"

He slowed down and turned his head, then came to a complete stop. The limo pulled over to the curb, and she got out.

She peered into his eyes and touched his arm briefly.

"Heero? Where are you going right now? May I offer you transportation?"

He wanted to say no, but her hopeful look, again reminding him so much of Kitty's expression when she tried to wheedle him into agreeing with her, was his undoing.

Besides, he'd been walking around long enough. He knew where he needed to go now.

"OK," he said, and followed her back to where her chauffeur was waiting patiently.

~~~~~

Quatre got out of the cab in front of the tenement he shared with Heero and removed the items Heero had decided to take with him. Heero had seemed indecisive as to whether to return to the hotel or not, and Quatre respected that. He didn't like it, but he respected it.

Something had passed between them in that banquet room. Quatre wasn't yet sure if it was a beginning, or an end, but he'd known for a while that things between Heero and himself would never be the same again.

He thought that, perhaps, regardless of the outcome, it was a good thing.

He climbed the stairs to the second floor and dropped everything he was carrying as he saw a familiar figure leaning against the wall, just outside the apartment door.

His visitor raised his head, his eyes now visible beneath the long fringe of brown hair that had been concealing half his face.

"Quatre," the man said, his voice choking slightly.

Quatre closed his eyes and opened them. It wasn't a figment of his imagination.

"Dad."

tbc

~~~~~

My thanks to Natea for the line about a female with external plumbing. ;-)

Loki - first, let me say that I have always found Norse mythology far more complicated and confusing than Greek, Roman, or Egyptian mythology. Even in an attempt to briefly explain Loki, for those who need it, I am going to once again oversimplify things.

There are different classes of gods, the Aesir, or warrior gods, and the Vanir, gods of agriculture. Asgard is the residence of the Aesir, although there were a few Vanir that resided there as well. Loki is usually considered one of the Aesir, but he often has gone out of his way to act as their enemy.

The chief god of Asgard is Odin, who, with his brothers Vili and Ve, created the first humans. Odin's wife is Frigg (sometimes known as Frigga), the goddess of marriage. Frigg is also associated with love and fertility, and it is from her name that "Friday" is derived.

The death of Balder - Balder, the god of light, was plagued by dreams of his demise, and was troubled by them. In order to seek protection for Balder, Frigg called forth all flora and fauna and other perils - fire, water, serpents, stones, trees - all swore an oath not to harm Balder. The Aesir would often amuse themselves by throwing all manner of things at Balder and attacking with various weapons. Of course Balder escaped harm each time.

This upset Loki for reasons known only to him, and he disguised himself as a woman and went to Frigg to ask what the Aesir were doing to Balder. She explained the oath, and he managed to find out that only the mistletoe had not sworn an oath, feeling it could not bring harm to Balder and therefore not bothering.

Of course Loki took advantage of this bit of knowledge and brought the mistletoe to an assembly where the Aesir were again amusing themselves by throwing things at Balder, all except for one, Hodur, who was Balder's brother. Loki asked why he was not participating and he explained that he was blind. Loki helpfully offered to assist Hodur in locating Balder, and gave him a dart of mistletoe, which Hodur aimed at Balder with Loki's help. The dart pierced Balder and he died, and Hodur was blamed.

Anyone familiar with Marvel Comics must know that Thor is the thunder god.

After all that, I can see myself some evening, when I'm bored, sitting down and associating the various GW characters with some of the gods and goddesses of Norse mythology. Be afraid, be very afraid!

Albatross - something that causes persistent deep concern or anxiety; something that greatly hinders accomplishment

The Sam Keen quote on love is from the book _To Love and Be Loved_.

The Barry Manilow song, because you KNOW you wanted to know where the lyrics came from, is _Somewhere Down the Road_.


	52. Crossing the Rubicon

****

The Edulcoration of Duo Maxwell - 52/?

~~~~~

Warnings: AU, yaoi, coarse language, violence, angst, cliffhangers, red herrings, mention of various vices, random bits of useless knowledge, occasionally explicit sex, enough footnotes to choke an army of horses.

Rating: NC-17

Spoilers: Nah

Disclaimer: I don't really need to be Captain Obvious here, do I? No ownership, no money being made, yadda yadda. Written for fun, not profit.

Archived at:   
http : // www . atsui . org  
http : // www . gundam-wing-diaries . 150m . com / gw / Mookie / gwmookie . htm

__

Edulcorate (verb) - To free from harshness (as of attitude); to soften

~~~~~

****

Chapter 52 - Crossing the Rubicon

"How I miss my friend Hastings. He had such an imagination. Such a romantic mind! It is true that he always imagined wrong - but that in itself was a guide." - Hercule Poirot, _How Does Your Garden Grow?_

"As to you, friend Watson, I owe you every atonement for having allowed your natural curiosity to remain so long unsatisfied." - Sherlock Holmes, _The Dancing Men_

~~~~~

Wufei's intercom buzzed just as he and Duo had decided they'd done more than enough as far as brainstorming for possible scenarios over the last two hours. He reached over and hit the button to the speakerphone.

"Wufei?" Janet's voice rang out. "They're here. Want me to show them to Conference Room A or C?"

"C," Wufei said, and Duo nodded. It was the one that they'd used the day Meiran had stopped by with Wufei's lunch. The fact that Janet hadn't offered Conference Room B, which was the largest by far, suggested that although Peacecraft wasn't alone, he hadn't brought an entire team with him, something Wufei approved of heartily. He hated men who hid behind others, preferring to do business directly with all parties involved.

They stood up and Duo found his palms were slightly sweaty, although he couldn't say why he suddenly felt nervous. It had to be the fact that the only reason he was in Los Angeles in the first place was because of this meeting, the one they'd been anticipating and hoping for all damn week.

Duo and Wufei waited until they were sure Peacecraft and whomever he'd dragged with him had plenty of time to be seated. They both felt more in control going in with all the parties assembled. Wufei had enough of surprise witnesses as a lawyer to suffer a similar fate when it came to closing a critical business deal.

Outside the conference room, they exchanged glances before opening the door.

Milliardo Peacecraft was standing against one of the windows, the sun reflecting off his pale hair. It made Duo think of the wig Heero had worn when they met, and he lowered his eyes, uncaring what Peacecraft might think of him as a result. His gaze traveled across the floor toward the other occupants of the room, where he saw two pairs of feet. One pair, most likely Relena's, faced Duo. They were shod in expensive shoes, leaving her ankles bare. He briefly recognized the pumps' sensibly low heels as the same style that Hilde seemed to favor.

Duo's breath caught in his throat when his mind registered the dark granite slacks worn by Relena's companion.

Relena was speaking to the man in a familiar manner, but her words were irrelevant to Duo. His eyes slowly traveled up the length of gray silk, over the backs of the thighs to where the slim cut jacket concealed what he just knew had to be the most perfect ass he'd ever seen, one he'd had the privilege of getting to know intimately. He continued his examination all the way up to the back of the man's neck and sucked in his breath as his eyes came to a halt upon reaching the pale golden hair that brushed the nape.

He blinked, reluctant to give up the illusion that it had been Heero standing there, wearing the custom tailored suit that Duo had picked out for him.

Wufei had just finished his staring contest with Milliardo Peacecraft and swung his gaze in the same direction as Duo, just in time to see the blond turn around. He made a small sound of surprise as he recognized the man from the bar.

"Gentlemen," Milliardo said, sounding pleased at the shocked look on both their faces. "Allow me to introduce you to the third member of our little merger. Wufei Chang, Duo Maxwell, meet Quatre Raberba Winner."

~~~~~

Duo shook hands with Quatre numbly, and found his hand held a moment longer than customary as Quatre murmured quietly, "don't lose faith, Mister Maxwell."

Duo's hand was released and he looked into the other man's eyes. It didn't seem as though Winner was referring to their upcoming business arrangement. He almost choked at those words, recalling with painful clarity the way his voice had sounded when he'd thrown them back in Heero's face.

He had difficulty comprehending the look of understanding in that level blue-green gaze. How could Quatre, a complete stranger, possibly understand anything? What was there to even understand?

Yet Duo couldn't shake the feeling that Quatre somehow knew that his chest had become impossibly tight, despite the fact that Duo was very good at hiding how he really felt from the world. Hell, he was good at hiding it from himself.

He should have been embarrassed. The first thing Duo had done when he'd laid eyes on Quatre Winner was ogled him, but he found that any potential humiliation took a back seat to the bitter cold disappointment that had lodged in his gut.

Quatre's face was all business once again, allowing Duo to compose himself. He'd barely exchanged two words with the man, but he suddenly had an immense amount of respect for him. Duo didn't usually feel that way upon meeting someone for the first time, and he almost always did his own investigation to verify his gut reaction, but he had a feeling that Quatre was one of the few trustworthy businessmen he might ever have the pleasure of doing business with.

It had nothing to do with the fact that he fit into that suit as if it were made for him, just like Heero had.

His eyes widened slightly, and he forced himself to face the fact that it was nothing more than coincidence that Quatre Winner was dressed just like Heero had been the night they'd gone to the gallery. An incredibly bizarre coincidence, but nothing more than that.

They all took their seats around the table, and Milliardo cleared his throat. However, the next words uttered were not an introduction to his proposal.

"Before we begin," Quatre said. "I would like to thank Mister Peacecraft for this opportunity. Winner Industries has been involved in some moderately successful ventures, but I have always wanted to seize the opportunity of expanding our scope. We cannot hope to grow, to truly be profitable, without exploring hitherto neglected avenues. I am looking forward to pooling our resources and creating something new and diverse. It's time for us to shift our paradigms and shed the cloak of the comfortably familiar to embrace the hope for our future with open arms. After all, what are a few risks when weighed against the possibility of a brighter tomorrow?"

He glanced at Duo just once during his statement, then opened the business plan in front of him.

"Shall we, gentlemen?" he asked.

Duo opened his leather bound report as well, but he couldn't focus on the pages in front of him. He looked over at Wufei, who was doing his best not to frown at Duo. His partner withdrew his eyeglasses from his pocket and placed them on his nose, then shot one more meaningful look in Duo's direction before turning his attention to his own copy of the proposal.

It was a good plan, Duo could see that much as he skimmed the first few pages. Instead of a straightforward acquisition of the Peacecraft Corporation which would then result in breaking it into smaller pieces for sale, the proposal suggested funneling investment funds from both Winner Industries and Maxwell-Chang into a realignment of the Peacecraft subsidiaries, creating a new entity. It looked synergistic rather than parasitic, and it was obvious that Peacecraft was willing to put a significant portion of his family's company on the line in exchange for some rather hefty financial assistance. In fact, the new business would create a new board of directors. One that would place Wufei, Quatre, and himself in the position of being major shareholders, right alongside the Peacecraft siblings.

His eyes drifted over toward Relena, who smiled as she scanned the proposal, and then flicked toward Quatre Winner.

Now that he had recovered from his initial shock, he realized that Quatre had apparently known Relena before today. Duo's mind abandoned the portfolio in front of him and he tried to recall anything she'd said during her brief conversation with the young blond businessman. She'd sent a few guilty glances toward her brother when she realized Quatre was looking at Milliardo curiously, but Duo's conscious mind hadn't processed those observations until he'd had a chance to recover.

He finished his visual circuit of the room when his eyes passed over Peacecraft and settled on Janet, who had cheerfully come in on her day off, with her taciturn intern in tow. She'd been a whirlwind of activity as she and Wufei tried to come up with every possible scenario that might be sprung on them. Neither had taken into consideration the possibility of a third party, however, which was a major oversight as the name Winner had cropped up several times. They'd dismissed the company outright because it didn't have the capital to provide financial backing to the Peacecraft Corporation. That is, they were unable to do so unless they convinced another company to share in the investment. A quid pro quo arrangement all the way around.

Janet had looked quite pleased when Wufei asked her to attend the meeting as well, to serve as the unbiased interpreter of all the legal jargon that Peacecraft was sure to have used. Wufei had commented earlier that he wouldn't put it past the man to have gotten Treize Khushrenada to assist him in drawing up the paperwork.

Duo forced his attention onto the leather bound report in front of him for a minute or two before he looked up questioningly.

"We are abandoning the pharmaceutical division entirely?"

Milliardo Peacecraft fixed a murderous gaze on him, and Duo would swear he saw Relena flinch slightly.

"I no longer wish to be involved in the manufacture of drugs, legal or otherwise. Aren't you the one who commented on the investigative department of the Food and Drug Administration, Mister Maxwell? Why invite trouble?"

Why indeed, when it seemed quite happy to make itself at home with the least bit of encouragement.

"Actually, most investigations regarding illegal drug use are conducted by the Department of Justice," Duo said, and was surprised to see Peacecraft's entire body tense. For some reason it seemed as though there were undercurrents in the room that Duo just couldn't for the life of him put a name to. Through all of this, Wufei seemed oblivious, and Duo knew that was not possible. Most likely he was merely allowing all others to reveal their cards, choosing to bide his time and then make his decision when everyone else had time to sweat it out.

Duo suddenly felt very tired. He no longer wanted to tango with Milliardo Peacecraft, and at this point, he could really care less about what came out of this meeting. Wufei seemed completely absorbed in reading the paperwork in front of him, and Duo was sure that his partner wasn't having any difficulty focusing on the written words despite the tension nearly crackling in the room.

He stood up. "I'd like to be excused for a moment, gentlemen. Please, do not let my absence keep you from your perusal of Mister Peacecraft's plan."

Quatre's face didn't change, but Duo would swear he lit up upon hearing those words, as if he knew something Duo did not. It was eerily reminiscent of some of the looks he'd gotten from Heero over the course of the week. Wufei raised his eyes over the rim of his glasses, and Duo said in a low voice, one just loud enough for his partner to hear, "the fat lady hasn't started singing yet."

Wufei's brows furrowed for a second before smoothing out, and he shrugged ever so slightly.

"Janet?" Duo asked, tilting his head toward the door.

She got up and followed him to the hallway, then closed the door behind them and looked at him expectantly.

"Do both Wufei and I both need to be present for this?"

She shook her head. "You can have your approval done by proxy, although it will need to be notarized to make it official."

"I don't suppose we have a notary public on speed dial?"

She grinned at him. "I obtained my commission shortly after I started working here."

He looked at her hopefully, and she nodded in answer to his unspoken question. "As long as you feel comfortable agreeing with anything Wufei decides, it's not a problem, Duo."

He placed both hands on her shoulders, leaned over, and kissed her on the cheek.

"Thanks, Janet, you're a lifesaver."

He practically sprinted for the elevators, and Janet watched him go, touching her cheek with her fingertips and sighing.

He really was a remarkably good-looking man.

She mentally amended her initial assessment of his prowess in the bedroom. She'd told Nadia that you could tell he'd be aggressive, but she now suspected he would be just as capable of making love slowly and sensually.

She shook her head to snap herself out of her daydreaming and headed for her office to get her notary seal.

~~~~~

Nadia had taken the opportunity to go outside for a cigarette as soon as everyone filed into the conference room. She'd promised Janet to return to the legal department in case they needed to page her for anything as the meeting progressed. It was little more than a gofer job at this point, so she'd decided to satisfy her nicotine craving first before waiting by the phone like some lovestruck lonely heart.

The only drawback to coming out to the butt hut was that, although she had the security code for the main doors, she couldn't use the nearby employee entrance to return to the building, as it was locked from the inside.

She took another drag from her Camel 100. Janet was certainly an interesting character. She'd had no problem dropping everything to pick her up at the garage where Nadia had her car towed. Nadia felt the worst part was the waiting. She wouldn't know until the following day when the garage opened how much it was going to cost. The downside of owning a used automobile was taking on all the problems caused by previous owners, but she knew she shouldn't complain. She'd gotten a lot of miles out of it, and chances were good it would be wiser to put a little money into this one rather than starting over with another used vehicle and its host of problems. It was too bad she'd never found any friends who had been worth the effort of keeping the way she'd stubbornly clung to that car.

Worth the investment or not, it didn't make her any happier at the thought of shelling out money to fix whatever was wrong with it.

A natural born cynic, she had been shocked when Janet returned from her incoming call to ask if Nadia was interested in working with her today, at a rate of twice the normal wages.

She hadn't given it a second thought before telling Janet yes.

Janet was a good kid. Nadia was younger, but it seemed to her as though Janet still held an unsullied innocence, this untarnished ability to see the silver lining, despite her current status as a recent 'dumpee' in a failed relationship.

Nadia had never thought very highly of Janet's boyfriend, who worked in one of the other departments. She'd met him just once, and he'd had that oily used car salesman aura. She'd been incredibly disappointed that the normally savvy Janet couldn't see that he was a complete sleaze bucket. She couldn't even say love was blind, because she couldn't bring herself to believe that Janet had been stupid enough to actually fall in love with that jerk. Sometimes what people thought was love was little more than a justified case of rampaging hormones.

Janet had taught her not to accept things at face value, something Nadia would never have expected to find herself guilty of. Janet should have been the type of person Nadia hated. She was, for lack of a better word, damn near perky, and the blonde hair didn't help elevate the estimation of her intelligence at first glance, as Janet kept it long and loose, rather than gathered into a sensible bun or twist. Once in a while she'd opt to tie it back into a ponytail, making her look so much like a cheerleader that Nadia had once asked Janet if her pompoms had gone astray. The blonde had merely laughed and said that she could easily make new ones by sending a few of the documents on Nadia's desk through the cross-cut shredder.

Janet had this way of saying the most dead-on perceptive things, almost out of the blue, and Nadia slowly started to warm up to her co-worker.

The other thing she found interesting was that Wufei Chang seemed to put a lot of faith in Janet, and Nadia had known from the first time she'd met the man that he was not one to make rash judgements. Even Duo Maxwell, who Janet practically drooled over, seemed to be more than a pretty face. She'd often found that good-looking men were either arrogant or stupid, and she couldn't say that about either of the gents who had apparently built the company from almost nothing.

This was the second year she'd interned with Maxwell-Chang, and she had to admit she really enjoyed it. It almost made her think that some people were worth getting to know.

She extinguished her cigarette and walked around to the front of the building, where she saw a woman with short dark hair looking at the closed doors with a hint of frustration.

"Can I help you?" she heard herself ask. This was what her ruminations got her; normally she'd simply ignore anyone she had no reason to enter into conversation with.

The woman's posture was stiff, but she nodded brusquely, and explained who she was looking for. Nadia was still hesitant to allow her into the building until the visitor reached into one of her pockets and pulled out her identification, which Nadia glanced at briefly.

Well, things were bound to get interesting, Nadia thought, and agreed to grant the woman access to the building. She first inserted her key into the deadbolt lock and turned it to the left, then punched in the code for the alarm. Once they were in the lobby, Nadia reset the alarm before walking toward the elevators. The woman followed at a respectable distance, and as the building was practically empty, an elevator was already waiting at the ground level for them. The two of them boarded the lift closest to the entrance and Nadia jabbed her thumb onto the button for the floor where the conference room was located.

The numbers over the elevator next to them slowly counted down until they went from 2 to G, and the doors slid open.

Duo Maxwell stepped into the now empty lobby and made his way across the floor with determined strides. He moved like he was on a mission, which, he supposed, he was.

~~~~~

Nadia led the woman to the conference room. It looked like things were just wrapping up, as Wufei was shaking hands with the younger blond man who couldn't be more than Nadia's age. He then turned to clasp Relena's hands and smile at her as if they were old friends. She decided she'd accept the dinner invitation Janet had extended earlier. Nadia was bursting with curiosity to find out what her colleague made of all the players in this little drama.

The woman she'd brought into the building took up a stance near the open door, folding her arms across her chest and leaning against the doorjamb.

Relena jerked her hands away from Quatre and shot a panicked look at her brother, who had already noticed the unexpected visitor. He did not look at all pleased, but he chose to ignore his sister as he made his way toward the dark-haired woman.

Wufei's brows furrowed as he tried to determine the identity of the woman who held a passing resemblance to Hilde, curious as to the sudden animosity in the room.

Milliardo spoke one word, and it seemed as if a judgment had just been passed in that single syllable.

"Noin."

tbc

~~~~~

Rubicon - a line that, when crossed, commits a person to an irrevocable change or decision. The Rubicon refers to a river that once served as a boundary between Italy and Gaul. When Julius Caesar crossed the Rubicon, it was tantamount to a declaration of war. Hence the phrase "to pass" or "cross the Rubicon" signifies taking "the decisive step by which one is committed to a hazardous enterprise from which there is no retreat."

__

Reference: http : // www . hyperdictionary . com and of course, http : // www . m-w . com, my friends at Merriam Webster online.


	53. Thursday's Child

****

The Edulcoration of Duo Maxwell - 53/?

~~~~~

Warnings: AU, yaoi, coarse language, violence, angst, cliffhangers, red herrings, mention of various vices, random bits of useless knowledge, occasionally explicit sex, enough footnotes to choke an army of horses.

Rating: NC-17

Spoilers: Nah

Disclaimer: I don't really need to be Captain Obvious here, do I? No ownership, no money being made, yadda yadda. Written for fun, not profit.

Archived at:   
http : // www . atsui . org  
http : // www.gundam-wing-diaries . 150m . com / gw / Mookie / gwmookie . htm

__

Edulcorate (verb) - To free from harshness (as of attitude); to soften

~~~~~

**Chapter 53 - Thursday's Child**

Duo had been completely unable to entertain the idea of sitting through the rest of that meeting. First there was the shock of seeing the suit he'd purchased for Heero. He had wanted it so badly to _be_ Heero. Instead, it was a young man named Quatre Winner, the trump card in Peacecraft's deck. Winner had then spouted a bunch of ambiguous prattle, making Duo feel like he somehow knew something that he couldn't possibly be privy to.

Duo's eyes had drifted to the gray silk jacket across from him several times, despite his efforts to focus on the report. After the third time of wishing that the face above that collar might miraculously transform into Heero's, he realized it was time to stop pretending to himself.

He now understood why Wufei put so much faith in Janet. He'd need to talk to Wufei about giving her a raise after this.

The drive to the hotel had taken an eternity, and he'd practically thrown the keys to the rental car at the valet. Once in the lobby, the elevator couldn't arrive fast enough. He'd been tempted to run up all fourteen flights, but he knew he'd be breathless enough once he finally got to the room. He kept tapping the thumb of his right hand nervously against his thigh until the doors opened. By the time he'd reached the penthouse floor, his hands had shaken so badly he could barely get the keycard in the slot.

What waited for him on the other side? The wizard, or the lion? The gimmicky illusion of false power and wishes granted? Or the proud strength of spirit, undaunted even when Aslan had been bound and muzzled, his proud mane shorn from his head?

Duo was afraid he knew exactly what he'd find, or not find, before he managed to get the door open. He had a sinking feeling that the suite would be empty, but he'd hoped against hope he was wrong.

It was painfully obvious the moment he walked into the living room that his suspicions were correct. The suite _felt_ empty, like a fire had burned out long ago. He hadn't felt this way since his mother accused him of being one of the teens who were arrested for possession of marijuana.

He forced himself to look at the table, and noticed two things. First, the leather tote was gone, meaning Heero had taken the computer with him.

Second, so was the stack of money.

It had just been a job to Heero, then.

~~~~~

Milliardo spoke one word, and it seemed as if a judgment had just been passed in that single syllable.

"Noin."

She returned his gaze unflinchingly.

"Zechs."

Wufei's eyes widened at the unfamiliar form of address.

"What are you doing here?" Milliardo asked.

"A friend needed me."

His eyes blazed. "I don't need anyone!"

She abandoned her position of leaning against the doorjamb and stood up straight.

"No, you don't, do you? That's one of the problems right there. The Almighty Zechs, perfect in everything he does, no thanks to anyone else. The world doesn't revolve around you, Zechs, and you're not the only friend I have." Her eyes flicked to Relena, who looked torn between the option of hiding behind Quatre Winner and taking her own offensive stance against her brother.

Quatre neatly sidestepped that issue by gracing all the occupants of the room with a warm smile, one that belied the sharp mind he'd already exhibited several times with pertinent comments and intelligent questions regarding the details of the merger. He said something to Relena and then gently steered her out of the room.

It was Winner who had managed to bring them all to agreement so quickly, and yet Wufei didn't feel at all like he'd been bamboozled. Even after Meiran had alluded to a few surprises, the last thing he'd expected was a merger involving the man he'd impulsively attempted to protect just two nights earlier.

He didn't like unsolved mysteries, preferring to have all the facts in front of him. Heero was a prostitute possessing a background that required a high security clearance to access. Their new business partner, Quatre Winner, had looked to have a similar side job at that bar. Was Los Angeles a mecca for hookers with mysterious pasts? This was where Meiran wanted to live?

The only ones left in the room with him were Peacecraft and "Noin," who could have passed for Hilde's sister at first glance. He wasn't even sure how she'd gotten in the building, but that was one mystery that he wasn't as interested in at the moment. He decided to lean back against the table and wait to see what would happen next.

His presence didn't seem to impact the argument that was brewing several feet away.

"You always have to make a statement about everything," Noin said. "Look at your hair. You still haven't gotten it cut, all because you're determined to remind your father what you had to give up."

Milliardo smiled, but there was no mirth in his expression.

"I see you cut yours."

She ran a hand through her dark locks. "It was impractical to keep it that long. I'll give you that, Zechs, you somehow manage to keep that mane looking like a million dollars. I'm sure it's a real magnet for attention."

His eyes blazed briefly, then his manner became one of a disinterested party.

"Civilian life seems to agree with you," he said, and Wufei suspected there were a lot of undercurrents to that statement. "I'm surprised you didn't try it sooner."

"Don't start this shit with me," she ground out. "I thought you of all people would understand why I wanted to stay. The truth is, you resented that."

He smiled at her again, an infuriating smirk of amusement. "Yet you have a civilian job now," he commented.

"That just goes to show you how pathetic I am. I left the army for you, you conceited self-centered prick!" she exploded. "I don't know why I ever thought I was in love with you. I thought it would make you happy, but perhaps you also expected me to stay home, barefoot and pregnant, just to feed your ego."

"Don't talk to me about motivation!" he roared. "You know why I had to leave. I never held it against you, Noin. I never expected you to give up your military career the way I had to!" He looked furious suddenly. "Of course, I didn't expect you to succumb to the charms of the next set of blue eyes that glanced your way, just because we were having a few problems, either."

She looked surprised, Wufei noted. Actually, surprised was an understatement. She blinked at him, mouth agape, and seemed to be processing his words.

"What the hell?" she muttered, her brows furrowed. It looked to Wufei as if she were a tea kettle ready to boil over as the implication of his words set in.

He was right about that, but he was completely stunned by the next words out of her mouth.

"You son of a bitch," she spat. "Are you talking about _Yuy_?"

~~~~~

Heero had been surprised to find Quatre gone when he'd arrived at their apartment, although not quite as surprised as he'd been to hear Relena Peacecraft's voice calling to him from a limousine that had been driving along West Pico Boulevard earlier.

He supposed it was only fitting that he run into her one last time, to tie up loose ends, perhaps. She'd thanked him profusely for all he'd done, despite his protests that he had shared little more than speculation and had no concrete evidence to back anything up. For whatever reason, it appeared that her brother was now planning on going ahead and closing the deal with Duo. Coincidentally, Relena had been on her way to meet Milliardo when she'd spied Heero walking.

Fortunately Relena had not expected him to engage in conversation during the drive. Just before getting out of the limo, he'd given in to impulse and cupped her cheek with one hand. He touched his forehead to hers and thanked her. He wondered if she knew he meant for more than just the ride.

He'd felt a bit uncomfortable once he realized that she planned on waiting for him to enter the apartment before having her chauffeur drive away, but he'd expected that they'd be gone once he shut the main door behind him. When it became apparent that Quatre wasn't home, he'd made his way to his bedroom and seen from his window that Relena and her driver were still there. She looked up and waved farewell to him just before the limousine pulled away from the curb.

He noticed the rumpled sheets and frowned before flopping down on his bed.

He reached into his pocket and withdrew the lump that was digging into his thigh, then just stared at it for several minutes. He'd counted it earlier at the hotel, and of course every dollar was there, as if to underscore their original agreement.

He'd been very tempted to leave it when he'd picked up the portable computer. Had been tempted to sweep his hand across the table and send the bills flying, landing where they may, to express what he thought of the message Duo had conveyed loud and clear. He didn't want it, didn't need it. He did not wish to carry the reminder of a mistake he'd made.

Then he'd remembered the way Duo had relaxed slightly as he'd worked all those tangles loose. How could he think it was all a mistake? If he closed his eyes he could almost smell Duo's hair as he'd held it to his face after they'd made love.

He wasn't foolish enough to think that it had actually been good for Duo, at least not in a physical sense. In the light of day, he knew he'd been a bit rough, as seen by the marks on Duo's body. He'd hoped, however, that Duo recognized that it had been more to him than just sex.

Duo had been right to feel insulted, he supposed. First he'd neglected Duo's pleasure entirely, then he'd acted horrified the next day when he saw the bruises, however slight, that he'd left on Duo's body. The man was no fragile miss, and it wasn't as though Heero had even realized what he was doing. There was little excuse for his lack of finesse, but he couldn't say he'd have changed a thing if he could go back and do it over. He hadn't realized how much he'd needed to just let go the way he had.

He had never penetrated another man before. Quatre had wanted him to, but he had enjoyed sex with his roommate far too much the first time, something that had surprised him greatly. He couldn't turn around and fuck Quatre, coldly pretending it didn't mean anything more than a simple physical release. Quatre had a way of getting under one's skin. For all Quatre's cynicism, he had a refreshingly honest concern for others. Simply put, he cared far more than was good for him.

Duo had been tearing down the barriers Heero had built around himself. Perhaps it hadn't really been that much of a challenge. Quatre had removed the first stone, and the wall hadn't been in place all that long, but he'd felt it as it slowly began to crumble. 

It was more than just assuming the unfamiliar _seme_ role, much more than that. He'd wanted Duo to chip away at that battlement, craved it, manipulated things the best he could to help Duo in that effort.

He'd been immediately attracted to Duo. That was part of the reason he'd offered the blowjob that first night. It was why he'd been unable to resist caressing the Enzo as he walked around it, thinking how it felt beneath his hands, wondering how it would feel to stroke the hard planes of Duo's body instead. Even in the dimly lit hotel exterior he'd suspected Duo's clothes hid an attractive build.

They'd spent the entire week vying for control, and Heero had gladly given it over just as often as he wrested it from Duo. Heero had slowly come to grips with the fact that he'd found someone he could consider his equal on many levels. When they'd fought, it was apparent that he was a bit stronger, but Duo was much faster, which was impressive in itself after the training Heero had undergone. The element of surprise had worked in Heero's favor that day near the elevator, even though Duo had managed to effectively block his exit from the hotel. His body tingled as he remembered the way Duo had felt, pressed against him from chest to thigh.

At least he had managed to reassure himself that he hadn't grown soft. With few exceptions, he had little trouble with his clients. They seemed to prefer making up stories about what kinks they'd talked Heero into and how hard they'd ridden him, knowing that Heero couldn't care less and wouldn't contradict them if they embellished the truth. A lot.

He'd held his own against Duo, and had reacted instinctively when Wufei had approached him from behind. That would make a big difference when he reported in for his physical assessment checkup. Thankfully tests for sexually transmitted diseases were part and parcel of the exam, just as much as the mandatory drug screening was, so he wouldn't need to ask for those to be performed. He was sure he was clean, but it would be nice to know for a fact once the lab results came back.

The money he held no longer mocked him. It was so much more than payment for services rendered. It represented the fulcrum between his error-ridden past and his future. It had been a convenient excuse to give in to the deep-seated desire to stay with Duo, who was just as attractive as he'd expected. Heero had enjoyed introducing Duo to the difference between fellatio performed by a woman and that performed by a man, but he'd also been curious about the client who'd demanded the opportunity to reciprocate the favor almost immediately. Heero should have known then, when he gasped Duo's name as he climaxed, that he was a goner.

It would have been easy for them both to pretend they hadn't met because Heero was a prostitute and Duo was just another john, at least in the beginning, but the facts could not be changed. They'd met because Heero approached him with the intent of selling his body.

There were a good many things in life that were unpleasant, but burying them under layers of denial was futile. The past had a way of poking its nose into the present at the most inopportune times. Acting like the proverbial ostrich with its head in the sand would be basing the future on a shared lie.

The future. Heero was finally willing to accept that life was full of both the good and the bad, which seemed a ridiculous thing to learn at this point, considering what he did for a living. It felt weird to think of his job again in the present tense, his real job, but he'd known Friday that his weekly phone calls would soon be a thing of the past.

He supposed his idiotic quest for penance would come up during the mandatory sessions he had to attend over the next few weeks. However, that would be held in the strictest confidence.

The ugly truth was he'd been a prostitute. He wasn't proud of it, but he was done running from things that couldn't be changed. He winced as he imagined the look on Duo's face when he returned to the hotel to find the money had been taken, but the rude wake-up call had been necessary. Duo needed his head pulled out of the sand, and Heero had faith that he would have no option left but to accept the truth when he got back to the hotel.

No, Heero would not do a thing differently. He would not willingly give up what he'd found, something infinitely precious. It would need to be nurtured, but at least now it had been allowed out of the box.

Which reminded him...

He put the money on his dresser and moved his bed six inches to the left, exposing the loose floorboard underneath.

As he pried the board off, his thoughts returned to Duo.

Duo was obviously neither ready nor willing to open his eyes and see what Heero had eagerly embraced. He couldn't deny that it hurt, realizing that they weren't at the same point of self-discovery, but there was a saying about the course he was on and how it never ran smoothly.

The wave of longing he'd felt in Quatre's presence earlier had confused him briefly. He wasn't used to all the different levels of attraction. In college, he'd had sexual urges, and sometimes he'd had the opportunity to take care of them with a partner. He'd found quite a few people physically appealing, but had never really felt an emotional closeness to anyone other than Kitty. To feel both for the same person was a foreign concept.

With Quatre he had a good friend, former lover, and a comrade-in-arms. If there was one person who could relate to Heero's self-loathing over one particular choice he'd made, it was Quatre. He cared for Quatre, and he had to admit to a certain chemistry with the blond as well.

His feelings for Duo, however, weren't the same as what he felt for Quatre. In some respects, he supposed there were similarities, but the differences became more apparent during his walk around Los Angeles. He'd deemed it safe to return to the apartment by the time Relena had offered to drop him off wherever he was going. All that, and Quatre wasn't even here.

The walk had done him good, though. It had been so simple, so painfully obvious, when Duo was right there in the room with him. He'd spent so much time with Duo in the span of a week that his brief temptation to kiss Quatre at the hotel had made him doubt everything he'd been convinced of, worried that he'd misread his feelings. If Duo had touched him, maybe even looked at him, before he'd left for his meeting, perhaps it would have been much harder to steel his resolve. He had been so sure of Duo's feelings, even if Duo had not.

Now that he'd had time to think it through, he stood firm by his initial assessment. He knew how he felt, and he was willing to bet he knew how Duo felt.

What he hadn't realized was that there was more at stake than the obvious. Heero never cared what people thought of him unless they were the few he considered friends. To accept what he felt and willingly follow it to see where it led was a natural next step. Duo had to find his own way to the same conclusion. At least Heero hoped it would be the same. If not, then it was better that they made the break now.

That first morning that Heero had woken up in the penthouse suite, Duo had told him in no uncertain terms what he thought of risky business propositions. It was entirely possible that Heero was wrong about the way Duo felt, but he'd meant the parting words he'd left Duo with. _Dum spiro, spero._

And last time he checked, he was still breathing.

He glanced at the alarm clock on the dresser. Soon, he decided. He'd call soon.

~~~~~

Duo stood near the balcony ledge, much as he had the day before when he'd told Heero about his mother.

He didn't think he'd ever be able to use this suite again the next time he was in Beverly Hills. It seemed cold and unfriendly now.

The size was impractical, especially for one person, but he'd occasionally give in to that desire to allow himself the best there was. He worked hard to get where he was now, and that meant he no longer had to deny himself the little things.

Then he no longer denied himself the bigger things either.

And he would swear he could hear laughter ringing through his head, telling him that had to be the biggest lie he'd ever told himself. He'd denied himself something worth a hell of a lot more than a week in a luxury suite.

What had Heero seen when he stood out here last night, looking out at the nighttime sky? Was he looking at the stars, the moon? Or was he doing what Duo was, blind to anything other than his own past, to his own regrets?

Did Heero have regrets about the past week?

He cleared his throat a few times, unsuccessful at ridding the lump that had lodged there.

He had been furious when Hilde broke up with him. He'd felt he at least deserved a face-to-face confrontation, but he had also felt a sense of relief. It felt like he'd finally been able to remove a necktie that was too restrictive.

Her parting words to him had angered him, but he supposed they'd stuck with him, subconsciously. Why else would he have gone along with Heero when he let himself into the Enzo, if not to prove Hilde wrong?

Heero had changed. Not the person he was, definitely not that, but Duo had recognized the difference that morning. It was as if all the subtle hints Heero had been giving him all week were no longer necessary, because he'd suddenly come to a conclusion. It was obvious he'd expected Duo to draw the same one.

The entire time, Duo had refused to look Heero in the eye. He hadn't wanted to change his mind, hadn't wanted to see how his words affected Heero. When Heero said his name, just before he left, he had a feeling if he'd made eye contact then, he'd find pity staring back at him. How dare Heero feel sorry for him? He wasn't the one who was going back out on the street.

His gut twisted again. How could he have said what he had after the shower, after the week they'd had together? He'd wanted to call the words back as soon as they left his lips, but Heero had gotten angry, and then things went downhill from there.

He sucked in a breath.

Heero had gotten angry.

Heero had never demonstrated anger, at least not like that. His eyes had flashed a few times in indignation, and they'd gotten into a couple of fights...his groin twitched with the memory...but he had never come out and yelled at Duo like he had earlier. It was more Heero's style to step back and come up with a new approach to throw Duo off guard.

Heero had been completely in the right, because what Duo said was uncalled for. Heero had given as good as he got. It hadn't been pretty.

The truth wasn't pretty. Reality was the man behind the curtain after all.

His mind called forth a picture of a younger Heero sitting with that girl from his past, maybe someone who looked like Relena Peacecraft, watching Judy Garland sing her way down the yellow brick road. He didn't like the image. Not one bit.

He'd tried so hard to find all he could about Heero, but when he found something that made him uncomfortable, he wanted to pretend it hadn't happened. In the beginning, Heero had been more of an interesting challenge, but by the end of the week, he'd seen glimpses of someone he wanted to get to know as a person.

Maybe he had been expecting nothing more than a sham wizard, but, to follow Heero's mixed analogies, he'd found Aslan instead. Aslan, and maybe Apollo, too.

It might have been easier if Heero had remained angry, but he'd suddenly gone quiet. His voice was almost tender and full of understanding when he'd said Duo's name. Duo should have recognized the Latin words as the farewell they'd been intended as.

Perhaps their destinies had been determined before he'd counted out the money for Heero and placed it on the table. Before he'd shoved his dick into Heero's ass, before he, in return, allowed Heero to fuck him. Hell, maybe the fates had woven this path well before Hilde had ever called him last week.

~~~~~

Heero felt a bit better, knowing his gut instincts weren't as horribly inaccurate as he'd feared. He didn't know who was responsible for what looked to be a major drug cartel, but he was sure Dorothy Catalonia did, even if her grandfather wasn't as involved as it appeared on the surface. Heero was willing to bet that girl had a finger in every pie. Four and twenty blackbirds...he could picture the blonde with that same Mona Lisa smile, calmly cutting into the pie crust and alternating between freeing some birds and neatly severing the heads of others.

His lips curved in that same half-smile he'd shared with Quatre. Hadn't he always thought fairy tales were rather gruesome? He thought he might like to see Quatre and Dorothy engaged in a battle of wits, to see how the subtle manipulation of Dorothy's held up against his roommate's. He could understand why Quatre's sister was so in favor of a match between the two.

It seemed that almost everyone he'd met this past week had some sort of connection to everyone else. Earlier in the week he might have been floored by the knowledge that Quatre knew Dorothy, but it seemed that there was little left in life capable of pulling the rug out from under him. That was a good sign. He needed to have both feet firmly on the ground in order to return to work.

Aside from the way he'd left things with Duo, there were only a few things that bothered him.

One was Milliardo's passing comment at the restaurant on his way out. Heero had finally placed that military stride, and he was reasonably certain he knew just who Milliardo Peacecraft was, but he also knew damn well he'd never met the man before.

The other was Relena's surprise when Heero had revealed that he'd seen both her brother and Dorothy earlier that day. Relena had expressed relief that Milliardo had listened to what she had to say. Heero had been glad as well, because he knew that Relena needed to be shown some faith in her abilities. When she announced that Peacecraft had no idea how much of a harpy Dorothy was, Heero had unconsciously shaken his head in disagreement. She'd noticed, and immediately asked what he was thinking. Once Heero told her he suspected Milliardo had the opportunity to see first hand what Dorothy was like, she'd frowned, and said, "but I thought..." and then trailed off. It was obvious she had known nothing about Dorothy's breakfast meeting with Milliardo Peacecraft.

Perhaps those two things weren't unrelated at all. He added one more name to his mental list of people to call. He wanted to be the one to break the news anyway.

He dragged his mind back to the present. He wondered where Quatre was. He wasn't being immodest when he admitted he had expected his roommate to be there waiting for him. Quatre had seemed reluctant to part ways after breakfast. Perhaps, despite the fact that Heero had cleaned the penthouse of any and all things that Duo had bestowed upon him, Quatre had assumed that he wasn't coming back.

He wondered if Duo had assumed the same thing.

He sighed. No matter what happened from this point on, he wouldn't trade the events of the previous day for the world. If nothing else, spending time with Duo the way he had only reinforced what he felt. It was completely irrational, because he'd only known Duo a week, but he was slowly regaining confidence in his ability to make snap decisions.

He reached into the space underneath the floorboard and withdrew a metal box that he'd purchased from Trowa shortly after Quatre had taken him in.

He set the floorboard and the furniture to rights and then sat on the bed again with the box. He glanced around the room, located the leather tote with the portable computer near the door, and then took a deep breath before opening the box.

Lying on top was a small informational pamphlet. He flipped it open to the card that was stapled inside and set the brochure aside for the moment. Next was a small cell phone, which he carried toward the computer case. He reached in and withdrew one of the cords from the pouch. He plugged in the phone and set it on his dresser to recharge. 

There was only one thing left in the box. He lifted the gray foam, also courtesy of Trowa, to reveal the components that were nestled in a second piece of foam.

He realized with a start how much he'd missed it.

He'd been lucky he hadn't been caught with it. California did not offer reciprocity for permits issued in other states, and since this one was registered under his own name back home, it wasn't like the department issued G18 that could legally be carried interstate. Bringing it with him back home would unfortunately require checking it in at baggage claim.

It was easier to smuggle past state borders when you traveled by land. He wasn't sure what the hell he'd been thinking when he'd taken it with him, other than it had been a long time since he'd not had one strapped to his hip. He supposed just knowing it was there was a security blanket. It had scared the hell out of Quatre, but he hadn't planned on using it that way. He hadn't planned on using it at all, really. It was one thing to break the law by carrying it concealed, but another to have it loaded as well.

His fingers ran over the pieces reverently and he gave into the temptation to assemble it.

If fit into his hand just the way he'd remembered it.

He lifted the Glock and sighted it. It was unloaded, just like it had been the night Quatre found him, but there was something about just holding it that he found reassuring.

Perhaps one day he'd get the chance to teach Duo to shoot. He found it incredibly erotic, the thought of standing behind his lover with Duo's body pressed back against his. His mouth went dry as he imagined reaching around Duo's body to position his fingers on the handgun, his lips next to Duo's ear explaining how he'd always found a hard grip best for this activity. Of course it was just a fantasy; he'd never treat gun handling as mere foreplay. Firearms were to be taken very seriously. They required, no, _demanded_, respect.

Still, there was just something damned sexy about the visual image of Duo, using Heero's own gun, his legs slightly apart and his grip hard and firm, the way Heero liked it, emptying the entire chamber into the target.

He was sure Freud would have something to say about that.

~~~~~

When Duo first got to the hotel, he didn't know how long he'd just stood there, staring at the empty table. He didn't remember taking off his jacket and tie, didn't remember making his way to the balcony where he'd been for quite some time.

He wondered what he could have done differently, or should have done differently, and yet knew he still would have done and said all the things he had.

He could still picture the way Heero had stood next to the desk, resting his knuckles on it as he spoke in that quiet tone of voice, the one that smacked of understanding.

Duo hadn't been able to look at his face, but he'd been just as incapable of avoiding watching Heero's body language whenever he'd dared send a furtive glance in his direction.

He left the balcony and walked over to the desk, idly stroking his fingers along the surface where Heero's hip had been leaning, the same side of the desk where Heero had set up the second computer when they'd played video games yesterday.

He looked down at the polished wood as his fingers met something unexpected. Something small and unobtrusive.

He drew that hand to his mouth as he realized what he'd touched.

Two small plastic cases, stacked one on top of the other. They were identical, and Duo recognized them at once, because he'd seen one of them the first night he'd asked Heero to stay. He also knew what he'd find if he uncapped them.

Heero's contact lenses.

tbc

~~~~~

holly - hope you liked Heero's and Quatre's conversation a couple of chapters back. Not sure what was wrong with chapter 51 when you viewed it, because it looked fine when I checked it. Of course, ff.net has been plagued with quite a few issues over the past week. As I've said before, knowing that Quatre, who is, for all intents and purposes, a secondary character, has found his own fan base in this fic has been a real joy to me. I waited a long time to use that Sherlock Holmes quote when I found it in my reading, by the way! ;-)

Nevi - I'm so pleased you like Trowa in this fic! I find that he has a way of ending up with a bigger role than I'd planned in the few fics I've written, and I see him as far more than the mute cardboard character he's often portrayed as. Hope the wait for this chapter wasn't terribly anxiety inducing! Hang in there...hopefully your other questions will be addressed soon.

CuriousDreamWeaver - I find that Quatre is usually quite capable of holding his own. He doesn't need anyone to protect him, and certainly not from Dorothy. Things will come together soon, all in good time!

Kanon/161386 - I'm glad you like the style and "pulling" effect! Thanks!

Pia Bartolini - aw, thanks! Glad you're enjoying it!

darkrevenge - mythology has always fascinated me - interesting that you find a lot of parallels in your own life with Norse mythology! Don't worry about not picking up the hints right away...I often miss out on a lot when I read because I'm willing to wait until all is revealed - it keeps the suspense in the story for me that much longer. I'm sure this is the kind of story where you could go back and pick out all the things you missed once it's ended. I've done that a few times and wondered how I could be so blind. The other thing is that there are often things that appear to be hints for one thing, but are deliberate attempts to lead you astray. I'm so pleased you feel for Quatre's character! I have found his characterization in many fics really underestimate him. When I first saw the series, Quatre was my favorite, so I suppose I am determined to portray him the way I see him. Heero would not have trusted Quatre with the Zero system if he didn't think highly of him, after all!

Chibi-libra810 - thanks for the compliment. I have a love-hate relationship with cliffhangers as a reader, so I enjoy the opportunity to use them as a writer when it fits the story.

skylarautumn - ah, I had hoped that people would think it was Hilde who ran into Nadia! It's nice to know my efforts were not wasted! Wow, I am so flattered you've read what I wrote just knowing I was the author. That's such a tremendous compliment, particularly since the other fics are quite different from this epic monster.

Rena - my style has often been to fill in the blanks afterwards and to give the reader some time to chew on what might have happened before that is revealed. I'm glad you are otherwise enjoying the story.

Bane's Desire - I can't tell you how pleased I've been to hear how many people have said the same thing about Hilde! I'd wondered if I could pull it off. I even pulled up pics of both Hilde and Noin, and their bios, to see how similar they were in appearance, to see if it would be credible. 

Kary-Asakura - hopefully things will become more clear as the story progresses.

Lana - I know, I know! I was starting to feel really bad about not having updated, and not even a week had gone by! I just had to decide what I was going to put in this chapter and what would go in the next chapter.


	54. Septet

****

The Edulcoration of Duo Maxwell - 54/?

~~~~~

Warnings: AU, yaoi, coarse language, violence, angst, cliffhangers, red herrings, mention of various vices, random bits of useless knowledge, occasionally explicit sex, enough footnotes to choke an army of horses.

Spoilers: Nah

Disclaimer: I don't really need to be Captain Obvious here, do I? No ownership, no money being made, yadda yadda. Written for fun, not profit.

Archived at:   
http : // www . atsui . org  
http : // www.gundam-wing-diaries . 150m . com / gw / Mookie / gwmookie . htm

__

Edulcorate (verb) - To free from harshness (as of attitude); to soften

~~~~~

****

Chapter 54 - Septet

"I'll be gone in a day or two...So needless to say, at odds and ends, but I'll be stumbling away, slowly learning that life is okay." - _Take on Me_, A-Ha

~~~~~

"Yuy," Milliardo said the name as if it were distasteful. "How I hate that name."

Noin looked murderous. "You give me no credit at all, do you, Zechs? I don't think you've ever been able to hurt me as much as you did just now."

Wufei thought she looked anything but hurt. She looked like she wanted to flay the skin from Peacecraft's body. He wondered what Meiran would make of the drama unfolding before him. Neither participant seemed inclined to pay his presence any mind.

"What was I supposed to think?" Peacecraft said, his voice not losing that angry edge. "It was always Yuy this, and Yuy that. How long did you work together before you fucked him?"

Wufei had only thought Noin was pissed a moment ago. Her voice grew very cold and brittle.

"I suppose you were celibate all the times we were apart, then? You never once stuck your dick where it didn't belong?"

First Zechs looked stunned, then he went back to being livid.

"I would never betray you that way! I was faithful, damn it! Even months after you gave up on me, I couldn't so much as look at another woman! And yet you were with Yuy, day after day, night after night. He slept with half the women in your department, for God's sake!"

Noin closed her eyes and took several deep breaths. Four of them, to be exact. Wufei counted them as his eyes flicked back and forth between Peacecraft and the woman.

"I should turn around and walk right out of here," she said. "This is what it comes down to, then. What it's always come down to. And truthfully, it shouldn't matter. You're the one with all the integrity, and I'm the one who can't be trusted to keep my legs closed." She sighed, then opened her eyes. "I refuse to defend myself. If you don't know me by now, Zechs, there is nothing I will ever do or say that will change your mind. A relationship with such a lack of trust is doomed to failure."

She ran her hand through her long bangs and shook her head.

"I'd be lying if I said I didn't care what you thought, because I do. Damn you, Zechs, I do care. But I will not waste time defending myself. I shouldn't need to." Her eyes narrowed. "However, I refuse to stand here and listen to you insult the best partner I've ever had, not to mention someone I consider a very dear friend."

Wufei was practically squirming with anticipation. Now they were getting somewhere.

Milliardo seemed to realize they weren't alone in the room. He glared at Wufei who met it with aplomb.

Noin noticed the nonverbal battle and cleared her throat. Zechs turned his gaze back to her.

"This does not concern him," he said.

Noin shook her head. "I don't care," she said. "I don't care," she repeated softly, maintaining eye contact with Peacecraft the entire time.

Wufei got tired of waiting for the answers to come to him, and broke the silence.

"Someone want to tell me who the hell is Heero Yuy?"

~~~~~

Heero field stripped the gun and carefully placed each piece back into the metal box. He then walked to the wall where the computer case was resting, picking up the cell phone on his way back to the bed. He located a phone jack next to the bed and quickly set up the computer using the external dial-up modem he'd removed from the tote. He visited a couple of web sites before settling on the flight he wanted, then he paid for it using the credit card number he'd memorized. Once his passage was confirmed, he picked up the pamphlet he'd set aside earlier and glanced at the name and contact information on the attached business card.

The cell phone needed to charge at least several hours, so he would need to leave it plugged in if he wished to use it before then. First, though, there were at least two more things he could arrange using the computer.

His password got him logged on to the department's intranet and he found the page he needed. He located the name and successfully booked an appointment. He was relieved to find that he was able to arrange for a physical exam the same day. He then took a deep breath and walked to the dresser to pick up the cell phone, scrolling through its memory to find the number he needed.

He hated to call Une on her day off, but he'd promised to contact her immediately when he was ready to return.

She didn't sound at all surprised to hear from him, nor to discover that he'd already scheduled the necessary appointments. She'd always known that he was thorough.

The last thing she said to him, before disconnecting their call, was "welcome back, Yuy."

It felt damn good.

~~~~~

Sally Po's phone rang, and she reached over to pick up the receiver.

"Po," she said automatically.

"Sally, you answer the phone like that at home, too?" Iria Winner's voice teased.

Sally looked around the efficiency apartment she'd been using during her temporary assignment. "If you call this home," she said, smiling crookedly. "So are you going to tell me what seems to have you on Cloud Nine this morning?"

"Dad found him, Sally," Iria gushed. "He found Quatre."

That explained her friend's uncharacteristic giddiness. Sally's smile grew wider. "That's wonderful, Iria. I'm so happy for you. For all of you."

Iria's enthusiasm was indefatigable. "I want to celebrate. To throw a party. He's coming home."

Sally was reminded of the way they used to be, years ago, still in college. Although they'd both been dedicated to their studies, they'd also indulged in the occasional girls' night with the rest of their dorm, and dragged each other to try out one activity or another. The dancing class had not been one of their best ideas. Sally chuckled as she recalled their sometimes shy, sometimes outrageous, observations about the opposite sex. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

"I'm just looking forward to seeing him again," Iria continued. "The occasional phone call just wasn't cutting it, especially not since he's never been around. There are a lot of unanswered questions, I suppose, but the important thing is that Dad found him, and he was OK. Nothing else matters in the end."

"I can't tell you how glad I am. Truly, Iria, this is marvelous news."

"I wish I could thank the person responsible for helping us locate Quatre," Iria said. "In fact, I wish I could thank whoever was responsible for keeping him safe."

"I thought we agreed that Quatre was quite capable of taking care of himself," Sally reminded her.

"I know," Iria sighed. "I don't think I'll ever stop thinking of him as my little brother, the one whose skinned knees I bandaged and whose cut forehead I kissed."

Sally had known how difficult it had been, at times, for Iria when they were in college. It had been the first time she'd actually been away from her brother - an empty nest syndrome in reverse. After the death of their mother, Iria had taken on more of a maternal role than anyone would have expected, considering she was closest in age to Quatre, the youngest in the family. Quatre had diligently written to Iria every week. Sally felt she almost knew the young man from his correspondence with her friend. She'd only met him once when she visited the Winner estate. Apparently Almira had arranged for him to go on some sort of study date with the daughter of another business owner one day, and sent him to work with their father on another.

Iria had been disappointed that in the span of several days, her friend only got to meet her brother exactly one time. Sally hadn't been sure about Almira's motivations, but she could guess that the woman had very definite ideas about how things should be run in the family, and most likely, the family business as well.

Sally had seen very little of Iria's father that week. He was always at the office, even a good portion of the weekend. Iria seemed to accept it as completely normal. Sally's parents had typical Monday through Friday jobs, so she could only guess at the number of hours clocked when trying to run a business. Not just run it, but continue to build it into something greater.

It wasn't her place to decide whether it was worth the cost.

She turned her attention back to Iria, smiling again as the conversation turned from the recent good news to some of their shared experiences in school. They discussed everything from questionable projects, ones that even now seemed inexplicable, to some of the crushes they'd had and the nights they'd spent consoling each other over what had seemed like a life shattering heartbreak.

Iria's happiness was contagious, Sally mused as she hung up the phone an hour later. She felt ten years younger.

She glanced at the clock. Hell, she might even go out tonight to one of the bars frequented by some of her fellow agents. She was going to go back to Maryland one of these days, and it would be nice to spend time with some of the locals while they had some downtime. Things were bound to get rather hectic in the very near future. She'd earned the opportunity to cut loose, just a little bit.

Sally pulled some cash out of her purse and shoved it in her pocket, along with her identification. She wasn't particularly surprised to hear her cell phone ring just as she headed for the door.

~~~~~

Heero had one more person left to call. The only person, besides Kitty, who he cared for, and who cared for him in return. Or at least that had been true a week ago.

He didn't need to consult the cell phone's index. He knew the number by heart.

He glanced at the clock. It would be three hours later, her time, but he would wait until he was sure she was home, maybe sitting down with a glass of wine, before calling.

He wanted to pick up something for Quatre before he left, and this was as good a time as any to do so.

He needed to pick up a suitcase with a locking mechanism, too.

He called Trowa's apartment. Trowa was more than happy to provide taxicab service for both days.

He picked up the wad of money on the dresser and placed it back in his pocket, then tidied up a bit before going outside to wait for Trowa.

~~~~~

"This doesn't concern you, Chang," Milliardo said smoothly, earning another dark glare from Noin.

"I think I'd be the one to make that decision," she said stiffly. She looked at Wufei. "But first, perhaps it would help if I knew who you were."

"Wufei Chang," he said politely, extending his right hand.

She grasped it briefly but firmly. "Lucrezia Noin."

Several moments of silence followed, then Wufei cleared his throat. "Yuy and I have a mutual acquaintance."

Milliardo snorted at that, causing two pairs of dark eyes to flash angrily in his direction.

"A mutual acquaintance," Noin repeated slowly.

"Duo Maxwell," Zechs supplied. "One of my new partners, along with Mister Chang here, and Quatre Winner."

Noin's eyes widened. "Quatre Winner? That was Quatre Winner, the one with Relena?"

"Speaking of Relena," Peacecraft said dryly. "Apparently the two of you share a mutual acquaintance as well."

It wasn't often that unexpected news caught Noin off guard, but she had to admit she was nearly poleaxed, if Zechs' insinuation meant what she thought it did. "Relena," she said. "Relena has met Heero?"

"Yes," Milliardo said tightly. "They seemed quite close, in fact. Jealous?"

Noin clenched her fists together tightly. "Why all the hostility, Zechs?" she asked coldly. "Perhaps this should be a business call instead of a social one. You seem to be a bit too antagonistic for someone who has nothing to hide."

"If you two would mind postponing your lover's spat," Wufei's calm voice interjected. "My question remains unanswered."

Noin frowned slightly. "It may continue to remain so," she said. She glanced around. "Do you have a computer with internet access nearby?"

Wufei pointed to a wooden cabinet in the corner that looked more like storage for miscellany such as coffee filters and Styrofoam cups. She left the two men to stare at each other as she headed over to the computer. She was impressed with the quality of it, and wondered what Heero would make of the slimline desktop model. It booted up quickly and she set about checking Maxwell-Chang's name against several databases, then ran checks on both partners' names as well. 

Wufei fought the beginnings of a blush. It seemed as though Milliardo were examining his face thoroughly. Wufei knew that the bruise was well concealed, and that the blond man was simply looking for some other sign of weakness to exploit later, perhaps when they disagreed on a direction for the new company. He still felt the urge to touch the bruise and kept his hands by his side through sheer willpower alone.

Noin seemed satisfied by the time she'd shut down the computer. She approached Wufei, reached into her pocket, and pulled out the identification she'd shown Nadia outside.

He glanced at it, noting with surprise that Noin was employed by the Department of Justice.

"I first met Heero Yuy when he transferred from the Information Technology Department to my Mobile Enforcement Team," she said. "I have known him for a long time, and I have a lot of respect for him." Her eyes narrowed. "I assume that, aside from your mutual acquaintance, you don't actually know Heero." She glanced at Zechs again. "No more than you do," she added.

Wufei sucked in a breath and nodded curtly. Whatever he'd expected to find, this wasn't it. However, he did feel much better about letting the man take him by surprise the previous day.

"Relena," she said softly, then nodded as if everything made sense. Noin smiled sadly, as if recalling a bittersweet memory. It flitted across her face briefly and then she suddenly stood ramrod straight, reaching for the cell phone clipped at her hip. She didn't spare it a glance before accepting the incoming call, causing the device to stop its silent humming at once.

"Noin," she said briskly, then a wide smile crossed her face. Wufei and Zechs exchanged curious glances as she nodded a few times while the caller spoke.

"I'll see you tomorrow, then?"

She looked up, phone still held to one ear, and stared right into Peacecraft's eyes, her smile slipping briefly.

"I've missed you, too," she said warmly. "More than you can imagine."

She hung up the phone and placed it back in the hip holster.

"Mister Chang," she said, her voice once again all business. "Allow me to apologize for intruding. I do hope you will not be upset with your employee, the young woman who granted me access to the building."

"I assure you, Nadia will not be penalized for her actions." In fact, Wufei felt he owed the intern for practically hand delivering the answer to his question. It was a shame Duo had felt the need to withdraw from the meeting early.

"I would like to bid Relena farewell before I leave. Do you have any idea where she and Mister Winner might have gone?" Noin asked.

Wufei told her the location of the other two conference rooms as well as the legal department, and she acknowledged the information with a brief nod before heading in the direction indicated.

Zechs watched her leave without a trace of emotion on his face, although Wufei would swear his jaw clenched a bit.

Wufei thought of Meiran, and of the situation with Treize that had taken him so long to come to grips with. He thought of Duo's comments at dinner that had so enraged Peacecraft that night. Then he mentally compared Meiran and Noin, and he smiled. Milliardo turned to see the content expression on Wufei's face. The blond's eyes betrayed the anger and resentment that was brimming under the surface.

Wufei noticed, and his smile grew just a little bit more.

~~~~~

Heero returned from his errand and placed his purchase on the dresser next to the cell phone charger. He removed the phone from his pocket and plugged it back in. The rest of the money followed. Before he met Trowa outside, he'd placed the box back under the floorboard, and the computer case had been carefully tucked under the bed. 

Despite the disreputable neighborhood and the flimsy lock on the door, overall Heero would say they'd been fairly lucky to have avoided any burglaries, especially since he knew neither he nor Quatre would have reported them to the police.

The cell phone, though, was not something that he dared leave out in the open, and it still needed to finish charging. If he left it plugged in overnight, it should be capable of retaining its charge after being turned off for the flight.

He browsed the paperbacks on a makeshift shelf on the wall. He reached out and removed his selection, then made his way to the couch to await his roommate's return.

__

//"Can I buy you with my body?"

Their faces were a few inches apart. Spade took her face between his hands and he kissed her mouth roughly and contemptuously.//

Heero sighed. Apparently Hammett's private investigator didn't hold kisses as anything sacred. It was rather funny how he hadn't noticed before.

His eyes flickered toward the door when the knob turned, and he stood up from the couch.

His eyes met Quatre's from across the length of the kitchen. Quatre looked a bit chagrined.

"I borrowed your suit," he said. "I hope you don't mind."

He met Heero at the doorway to the living room. Heero's hands ran over the silk, starting on the blond's shoulders and gliding over the sleeves all the way to the wrists.

Heero noticed that something had clung to the palm of his right hand, curling over the back of his hand, as it slid down the length of Quatre's arm. He reached over with his left hand to pull the long strand from where it held fast to his skin.

He held it up to the sunlight and sucked in a breath. Quatre noticed the hair too, and wondered how it had gotten there, as he hadn't noticed a hair out of place on his new partner, the one who had left the meeting early.

"Heero?"

Heero examined it, letting the light glint off it, then letting go, watching it fall to the ground almost reluctantly.

"In the light it looked almost burgundy," Heero commented.

Quatre frowned slightly. "No, it was brown." He almost stumbled over his words when Heero had turned to look at him again, seeing a glimpse of a little boy lost for a fleeting second and feeling a dull ache in his chest.

He refused to let Heero get away with it this time. He grasped his roommate's wrist and pulled him gently to the couch, then sat down. He held fast until Heero took the seat next to him.

Quatre felt a lump form in his throat when Heero suddenly leaned his head on Quatre's shoulder and sighed. He struggled to work his arm around Heero, and he pulled him close.

Trowa had been right, he mused, as he felt Heero's shuddering breaths against his neck. He was blind to things that were right in front of him. He dropped a kiss on the top of Heero's head. It had been a while, but he'd swear Heero's hair was much softer than it had been the night they'd made love.

tbc

~~~~~

__

Septet - a set of seven musicians who perform a composition written for seven parts. Think of it as being a _nonet_, less two instruments.

~~~~~

Pia Bartolini - I know, ff.net was most uncooperative. Hopefully we won't see a repeat of that, at least any time soon. Yes, the questions are slowly being answered, so I'm glad everyone has been hanging in there, enjoying the ride.

holly - yes, Thursday's Child has far to go. The entire poem is (waves hand) in one of those chapters from the day before.

Mara202 - I know one person who received 90 reviews for the same chapter of a story, so I hesitate to think how many you got by the time ff.net settled down. I'm glad at least one of the e-mails you received was for an honest to gosh updated chapter.

D - thanks for the glowing but extremely thorough praise! While it is always nice to hear that someone likes what they've read, knowing the specifics behind that enjoyment is both helpful and infinitely more rewarding. Ayieee...I wish I could say I looked forward to the nitpicking as well, but hopefully by the time the story has come to a close, you won't find too many things I haven't managed to improve, or at least become aware of, along the way!

Kanon/161386 - I cannot tell you how thrilled I was to read your review regarding the different levels of attraction and emotional closeness. By contrasting it with their sexual relationship, you've managed to sum up a very significant aspect of whatever it is that exists between them.

Rena - I do like to make these occasional leaps. Unexpected is good! Watch your step, I don't know if I'll make any more before I'm done!

Kary-Asakura - again, things are slowly unfolding. I was pleased to hear someone wondering about Trowa. For a character with the least amount of "screen time" - all Trowa comments really make me feel I've breathed life into him for a bit.

An Angel's Silver Tear - Welcome to the story, that is, assuming you stuck with it this long!

Neddlepoint - it's the differences between this fic and the movie that have really made it a lot of fun to write. Thanks for letting me know you've been enjoying it.


	55. Buckets

****

The Edulcoration of Duo Maxwell - 55/?

~~~~~

Warnings: AU, yaoi, coarse language, violence, angst, cliffhangers, red herrings, mention of various vices, random bits of useless knowledge, occasionally explicit sex, enough footnotes to choke an army of horses.

Spoilers: Nah

Disclaimer: I don't really need to be Captain Obvious here, do I? No ownership, no money being made, yadda yadda. Written for fun, not profit.

Archived at:   
http : // www . atsui . org  
http : // www.gundam-wing-diaries . 150m . com / gw / Mookie / gwmookie . htm

__

Edulcorate (verb) - To free from harshness (as of attitude); to soften

~~~~~

****

Chapter 55 - Buckets

"I will make a guess. He kissed you, did he not?"

"_Eh bien, monsieur_, and after all? What is a kiss?"

- Conversation between Hercule Poirot and the 'pretty French maid' in Agatha Christie's _The Submarine Plans_

~~~~~

The next morning Heero woke first. They'd fallen asleep on the sofa for a short time, at least Heero had. He wasn't certain about his roommate. It had just felt good to feel the fingers running through his hair, to feel the warm body next to his.

He had actually given a passing thought to testing the waters to see if Quatre's invitation was still open. Then he'd considered just asking Quatre if they could sleep together, without doing anything.

In the end, they went to their respective rooms alone. In the light of day, Heero was a bit disgusted with himself, not for wanting to yield to the temptation that Quatre continued to present, but for the neediness he'd felt when he imagined sleeping alone. He'd spent one week sharing Duo's bed, and now his tiny twin mattress seemed far too large for him.

He imagined that the familiarity of his own bed, back home, would go a long way toward dispelling that childish craving for a bedtime companion. He smiled slightly. If that failed, perhaps he could get a teddy bear. That would go over real well if anyone at the office found out.

Had he ever felt at home here, in the apartment with Quatre? He pondered this as he took a quick shower under barely lukewarm water.

He decided he had. It had only seemed like home when they were both there, however. Otherwise it was just a place to hold the few things he'd acquired or brought with him to Los Angeles.

Neither he nor Quatre ever brought a client to the apartment. There was something sacred about this place, something that would be sullied beyond repair. He didn't think he'd be able to sleep in a bed where he'd allowed a john to ram a dick up his ass.

He sighed. That was just one more example of how different things had been with Duo.

Quatre was waiting for the shower as soon as he walked out with a towel around his waist. His time in the bathroom was even shorter than Heero's, and in under half an hour, they were both dressed and sitting at the kitchen table. Heero was sipping at a glass of tomato juice, wondering which of them was going to break the silence first.

A blue jay outside their partly open window spurned Quatre into action. He sighed and got up, jerking the window up all the way and poking his head out. He looked toward the apartment to the left of theirs before withdrawing.

"It's that woman next door," he said. "She's throwing bread out the window again."

Heero had been quite surprised, when he'd first moved in with Quatre, that the blond didn't know everyone in the building by name, considering his gregarious nature at the bar. He'd learned quite a bit about the young man in the few months they'd lived together.

"Did you know," Heero said thoughtfully, "that seeing a blue jay playing near your home is a sign of fun and good times to come?"

Quatre snorted. "I don't now if I'd consider a freeloading bird to be playing, or if I'd consider this to be..."

It was eerie, Heero decided, the way Quatre also seemed to struggle with the idea of calling the apartment 'home' - especially as he'd been there all week by himself. Quatre certainly didn't hold the monopoly on guilt.

"You planning on making a habit of wearing my clothes?" Heero teased, hoping to lighten the mood. Anything to keep from falling back into the introspective abyss he'd been in a good portion of the previous day.

Quatre smiled at him brightly. "You're just jealous because it looks better on me."

This time he was wearing the suit Heero had gotten at Prada Men almost a week ago. Heero had to admit, it did look very good on Quatre.

"Big plans this morning?"

"I'm meeting my father for breakfast," Quatre said, then realized that he and Heero hadn't talked about anything since they'd met at the Tiara the previous day.

Heero already had that questioning look on his face that Quatre still found endearing.

Quatre went to the refrigerator to retrieve a bottle of water, knowing his mouth would become dry by the time he was done talking.

"When I got back here yesterday, right from the hotel, he was waiting for me outside the apartment. I don't yet know how he found where I was living, but Iria had the number to the bar, so it's a safe bet that helped narrow it down to Los Angeles."

Heero nodded. He'd often thought it curious that Iria had never seemed to pursue locating her brother, especially considering how frantic she'd seemed lately, calling twice as often. Trowa had the patience of a saint to keep fielding all her calls for Quatre.

"Apparently the reason Iria had been trying to reach me was to inform me that our father was coming to LA for a meeting."

Quatre frowned even as he said the words. That didn't seem right to him, because he'd known Iria had been downright concerned. Worried about him. It didn't jibe with the fact that his father had arrived, as shocked as he'd been.

"The suit," Heero commented.

Quatre nodded. "I'm sorry I took the liberty of borrowing it without permission, but things happened pretty damn fast. I couldn't believe my ears when I heard myself volunteer to attend the meeting in his place, but you could have knocked me over with a feather when he agreed. Heero, I knew nothing about what was going on, but he handed me some paperwork and said he trusted me. He wants a full report this morning."

Heero nodded, then something clicked.

"Quatre Raberba Winner," he said slowly.

"Yeeess," Quatre agreed, looking at Heero. Suddenly Heero started laughing. He threw back his head and laughed so hard a tear rolled down his face. Eventually Quatre joined him, not completely sure he knew if the reason Heero was laughing was the same reason he was.

Heero stopped and reached for Quatre's bottled water, then took a long swallow before placing in back in front of his roommate.

"You were at a business meeting, representing Winner Industries. On a Sunday. In Los Angeles. Perhaps with Milliardo and Relena Peacecraft, Wufei Chang, and Duo Maxwell?"

Heero's voice was still a bit ragged from his bout of laughter, but Quatre didn't fail to notice the way his voice went a bit hoarse at the end.

"It was you," he said quietly. "He thought I was you."

Heero wanted to start laughing again at the vagaries of fate, but he didn't. Instead, he leaned back in his chair and shook his head, pondering at the strange intersecting paths that he'd stumbled upon.

"_Kaze fukeba okeya ga moukaru_," he said. "_Kaze fukeba okeya ga moukaru_."

Quatre waited for the translation he knew was coming.

"A bucket shop profits when wind blows," Heero said, chuckling a bit. "Who knew that we were selling buckets, Quatre."

Quatre mulled that over a moment, his mind making the connection rapidly.

"The world is interconnected, even though it doesn't seem to be," he said. "The guy in the Enzo? Duo Maxwell?"

Heero nodded.

Quatre had suspected as much the night before. In fact, he suspected far more than that. It hadn't taken long to put two and two together; the two being Duo's fleeting look of disappointment and Heero's briefly stricken expression. He wanted to say so many things, ask so many things, but it didn't seem right to force the issue.

"I have something for you," Heero said unexpectedly.

"Oh?"

"Be right back." With that, Heero was up and on his way to his room. When he returned, he handed a book to Quatre and then sat down again.

Quatre read the title and laughed. "To Love and Be Loved," he read aloud. He turned the book over and continued. "Love is not something we fall into...but rather a complex art combining many skills and talents that take a lifetime to learn." He looked up and his eyes bored into Heero's. "Think that's true?"

"I think some of his ideas have merit," Heero replied, "although perhaps it is different for everyone. There is no magical bolt of lightning that strikes you, suddenly opening your eyes up to a love so bright that you can't understand how you missed it before."

"You really believe that," Quatre mused.

Heero smiled at him. "Well, at least the part about the lightning bolt. This isn't ancient Greece, and Zeus isn't wielding his powers over us." He looked over at Quatre, staring at him with such intensity that the blond felt like squirming in his seat to get comfortable.

"You're stronger than you give yourself credit for Quatre. Don't sell yourself short."

Quatre took a deep breath, touched by Heero's words more than seemed appropriate. "I'm not going to sell myself at all. In fact, Heero, I plan on going home after this."

"That makes two of us..." Heero trailed off. "Quatre..."

Quatre cleared his throat, not wanting, not quite ready, to hear what Heero might be trying to say. "This book," he said. "Sam Keen. This the one you helped your sister with?"

Heero nodded. "Her name was Kitty," he said, and his voice cracked slightly. Quatre was at once at Heero's side, crouching beside the chair and placing a hand on both of Heero's, which were clasped in his lap.

"In my room," Heero rasped. "Dresser..."

Quatre nodded and got up to fetch whatever it was that Heero wanted him to see. He found the pile of money sitting on top of Heero's chest of drawers, and a cell phone. Next to the phone was a brochure, similar to the ones that were often hanging in wall pockets at doctors' offices.

He picked it up and flipped to the front page, reading the title of the pamphlet.

Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

~~~~~

Quatre brought the informational leaflet with him to the kitchen. Heero had turned his seat toward the window and seemed to be staring at the building across the street. Quatre knew better.

He supposed he should review the pamphlet first. On the first page was a list of symptoms of PTSD. Insomnia. Irritability. Distancing oneself from family and friends. Lack of enjoyment from interests previously pleasurable. Repeated nightmares. Decreased sex drive or overindulgence.

He continued skimming the list. It was rather ironic, he thought, that he'd actually experienced some of the symptoms himself. Not all, but some.

He was spending far too much time analyzing the symptoms. He moved to the page showing bullet items for possible causes of post traumatic stress.

Officer involved shooting. Officer witnessed shooting. Senseless death. Child victims of crime. Lack of debriefing after a critical incident. Officer family member being the victim of a crime.

He stopped.

My little sister, Heero had said. Her name was Kitty.

Officer family member being the victim of a crime. Officer?

He flipped to the back of the pamphlet. It had prepared by an online organization intended to provide assistance to police officers nationwide. He flipped open to the business card that he'd seen inside and noted the e-mail address of the doctor.

That certainly explained what Relena had told him about a recent friend she'd made. It explained the dark look her brother had given Heero outside the restaurant. He'd originally thought it must have something to do with Dorothy, but now everything was falling into place.

Almira had been right about one thing. He and Dorothy were evenly matched. He wasn't being immodest. He had just had a knack for piecing things together to form the big picture. The biggest difference between him and Dorothy was that Quatre preferred to give people enough rope to hang themselves. Dorothy, on the other hand, was the type to forget the noose altogether and jugulate the person instead.

When Quatre had told Heero he was going home, Heero had replied 'that makes two of us.'

He got up to use the phone. He hated to do this, but he had to ask his father if they could change their breakfast meeting to a luncheon meeting. This could take a while.

~~~~~

Quatre wanted to sag with relief when his father agreed to postpone their meeting. He had immediately been alarmed at Quatre's request, but once he'd been assured him that yes, everything was fine, he was willing to go along with his son's request.

Quatre was sure he'd end up paying for that later, but right now Heero needed him.

As he sat down at the table across from Heero, he noted that there were only traces of the dark and brooding brunet usually shown to the world.

He amended his mental statement. It wasn't that Heero _needed_ him to here at all. Heero merely wanted him to be, but was willing to go without his presence if need be.

The ball was in Quatre's court.

"You aren't a police officer, are you?" he asked, gesturing to the informational brochure.

Heero shook his head. "No, I'm not. Not exactly, anyway."

"Is the gun yours?"

"Yes."

"Loaded?"

"No. Not even that night."

"It's under your bed, isn't it?"

Heero's eyebrows raised in surprise. Quatre grimaced. "You probably noticed I, ah, borrowed your bed." The tips of his ears grew a bit red. "There's a loose floorboard..." he trailed off, and Heero didn't press the issue.

"Quatre, tell me about the meeting yesterday."

The blond nodded, relieved that he didn't have to admit to his overindulgence. He couldn't blame Trowa for that, even if that's whom he'd gotten the bourbon from.

"After Dad gave me the paperwork, I sat down to review the companies involved. I recognized the name Peacecraft immediately, as I'd gone to school with Relena briefly. She was lucky. She started at Delphi after Dorothy left. Relena was innocent, far too naive for the likes of Dorothy Catalonia. She would have either become Dorothy's lackey, or would have learned the hard way what it was like to go up against someone with cold ruthless determination.

"I was honestly surprised to see her at the meeting. I haven't seen her since I graduated. She was a Business Seminar student, just like I was, with the opportunity to visit leading businesses in several cities. And I found out yesterday that, just like me, she has been given permission to intern working for her own company. That's a lot harder, I think, because the professionals you work with are determined to make you toil harder than any other student would, although whether to make sure you can handle it or to give you the necessary trial by fire, I'm not sure.

"She never met Dorothy Catalonia in school, but I found out Relena made her acquaintance recently, and, I suspect, yours as well."

Heero nodded.

"I'm getting a bit ahead of myself," Quatre said. "I showed up at the meeting, in my father's place, and was shown into one of the conference rooms. That's when I met Milliardo Peacecraft. I'd heard of him, mainly through Relena the year we were both at Delphi, but also in connection to Treize Khushrenada, who everyone had heard of.

"Milliardo didn't seem to pay me any mind one way or another, so Relena and I caught up on old times. She told me about some of the recent program changes at school, and that she was going back to Oregon...today, actually. Then there was a bit of tension in the air, and I knew that Maxwell and Chang had arrived.

"Ever get that feeling, where you can feel crosshairs in the middle of your back?" He winced at the turn of phrase he'd used, but plowed ahead. "I felt that way as soon as the door opened."

He blew the stray bangs out of his face before continuing.

"I turned around, and for a split second, Duo Maxwell looked like he'd seen a ghost. I almost thought I'd imagined it, and I'm not given to flights of fancy."

Heero nodded again.

"Then I shook his hand, and it was really weird, Heero," Quatre said. "I could tell he was..." he trailed off, then shook his head.

He fell silent, and bit his lip. He couldn't tell Heero that he'd felt a wave of longing through Duo, could he? It was like giving away a secret. He hated the way his body sometimes gave him insights he'd rather not have. Duo Maxwell was a very lonely man, and it didn't seem right to tell Heero that. Part of him wanted to, because he loved Heero, and he wanted to make things right.

The other part thought of the book Heero had given him. It was not Quatre's place to try to pave the way for Heero's heart, nor to stoke the embers with his own, possibly faulty, impressions.

Sometimes his own feelings colored the way he perceived the emotions of others. It was like trying to separate two hopelessly tangled balls of yarn, when the colors were similar. Where did one end, and the other begin?

Heero had been a bit upset the night before, but he hadn't felt lonely. He'd felt resigned, sad, even, but not lonely. He wished Trowa were there. Trowa had a way of listening even when no words were spoken. Heero had always been comfortable around him.

He sighed heavily. Heero didn't look as though he wanted him to continue in that vein, and he was grateful for that. Heero had always understood Quatre's struggle with his weird bouts of being an emotional radar.

Perhaps Heero wanted to find his own way, without interference. It took a great pressure off his mind when Heero said, "so how did the meeting conclude?"

Quatre took a sip of water and said, "Quite well. It seemed to me as if Milliardo had been rather reluctant to give an inch to Maxwell-Chang, and I suspect that, if Winner Industries had the capital, he would have left them out of the equation altogether. This will be a very good move for everyone, though." He took a deep breath, and then said, "I think I have a few questions for my father after this."

Heero reached across the table again, and Quatre recognized the gesture from their breakfast the previous morning. He clasped Heero's hand in his and squeezed.

"Careful," Heero said. "I'm right handed." With that, he smiled a bit at Quatre.

Quatre tightened his grip, then released Heero's hand.

"Something rather interesting happened after the meeting," Quatre said. "A woman showed up and glared daggers at Milliardo."

Heero perked up at that. "A woman?"

"Mmm. Wufei looked a bit surprised at first, then confused, but Milliardo definitely recognized her. Relena tensed up almost immediately, too. Then Milliardo walked right over to her and...Heero, are you okay?"

Heero had started laughing again. He leaned his head back and laughed, his palms on his stomach, then he bent forward at the waist and continued until he had managed to contain his mirth to a light chuckling.

"She's cagey as ever," Heero said, wiping his eyes. "Should have known that's why she sounded so damn smug on the phone."

"Who?"

"Lucrezia Noin. My partner."

~~~~~

Duo looked at the clouds out the window and thought how innocent they seemed. The sky was the picture of a perfect sunny day. Funny how those same clouds could turn ominously dark before sending a torrent of rain below.

The previous evening he'd been surprised to hear a knock at the door. He'd expected Wufei to call him at some point, but the phone had been painfully silent.

There was only one person he'd wanted to hear from, though, and it was just as well that his partner stayed the hell away from him for a while. They were catching an early flight in the morning and Duo felt the emptiness of the luxury suite even more as he slowly removed any trace that he'd been living here for the entire week.

The hardest part had been packing the Scrabble game and the jigsaw puzzle into his suitcase. He'd been tempted to leave them behind, but in the end, he just couldn't.

He'd picked up the playing cards and shaken them out, shuffled them the way Heero had, and then set the deck on the table and picked up the top card.

The two of hearts.

He'd stared at it and then swept his hand over the cards, scattering them everywhere.

He could still hear Heero's tentative voice. "Fifty-two pickup?" he'd asked, then Duo had heard the riffle just before the cards started to shower over him.

He'd angrily thrown half his clothes into the suitcase, only to pull them all out and refold them in order to get them to fit with the addition of the two boxes that he still could not leave behind.

The closet had been stripped of every single article of clothing he'd purchased for Heero. Except for what Duo had found on the desk, it was as if Heero had never set foot in the suite at all.

When he'd heard the knock at the door, he had practically torn it off its hinges as he opened it, then looked into the very calm, very dark eyes of Meiran Long.

His anger had deflated, and he'd stepped back to allow her to enter.

He'd attempted to flirt with her in that way he always did, but the words sounded flat to his ears. Forced.

He'd been stunned when she told him that she and Wufei had discussed moving to California and had asked what he thought of the idea.

Practically, he'd been all for it. There was no single reason for Wufei and Meiran not to set up residence in Los Angeles, and every reason for them to do so. Duo would still make the occasional trip out West for meetings, and Wufei would do the same with flights to the East Coast.

Then she'd surprised him, asking if he'd mind taking a later flight. She'd suggested that he might wish to review all the terms of the agreement and present any questions to Janet as he'd been absent for the meeting.

Duo had wondered briefly what else Wufei had shared with his wife. His partner wasn't the type to speculate, but Meiran was.

He'd agreed to take an evening flight instead of a morning one, even though that would mean he'd arrive in LaGuardia in the middle of the night, considering the time difference. Meiran had teased him about having an 'in' with one of the bosses and she would make sure it was okay if Duo came to work late on Tuesday. She'd actually leered at him when she said that, and he couldn't help but laugh.

Just before she left, she'd handed a small paper bag out to him. When he'd lifted an eyebrow in query, she'd said "in case you get bored on the plane."

It wasn't until she'd left that he took the book out of the bag and read the title.

The Maltese Falcon.

He'd almost dropped the book. He could picture Heero on the couch, calmly answering Duo's question about pulp fiction. Duo had been referring to the movie of the same name, and Heero had deliberately answered in terms of the era when tales of Sam Spade and Philip Marlowe made their debut.

It would have been nice to watch that movie with Heero.

After Meiran had left, he'd slid the book he was still holding back into the paper sack and placed it in his carryon. Then he had finished packing the rest of his luggage, only leaving out the toiletries he'd need in the morning as well as the suit he planned to wear for his half day at the office.

The suit he was wearing now. He didn't know if it was intentional that he'd worn the collarless shirt that Heero had borrowed a few days earlier.

He'd just finished reading the entire plan for the quasi-merger, and he supposed he could double check with Janet to be sure that everything was finalized. It was a good business move. If he had the time and inclination, he would have arranged a meeting with Quatre Winner today as well, but he remembered again what the young blond had been wearing and just couldn't bring himself to find out more about him. Perhaps Wufei could make arrangements to return to Los Angeles some time in the next week or so. In the meantime, they'd teleconference with their new partners, and Wufei had already indicated that Janet would take care of meeting with Peacecraft and Winner in person as needed in the meantime.

Forget a raise, the girl should get a damned promotion.

Duo picked up the stack of papers he'd set aside on the conference table and straightened them before taking them with him to the legal department.

As usual, he was waylaid several times on his way to his destination. He listened with half an ear as he remembered the rest of the previous evening.

Meiran had walked over to the loveseat and unerringly sat down on the same side Heero usually did. Sometimes Duo would swear the woman was psychic.

"Do you mind?" she'd asked, picking up the remote. He'd stood there dumbly and shook his head, the paperback still clutched in both hands.

She knew Duo's penchant for old movies, and had flicked through channels until she found it. An old John Wayne film was playing, and she'd shaken her head and sighed. Meiran hated Westerns, but she shared Duo's passion for the old suspense thrillers.

"Duo?" she'd asked carefully as she turned off the television. "Are you feeling alright?"

He'd not been able to respond, because just before she found the classic movie channel, she'd surfed past a commercial for a cosmetic product. Eyeliner or eye shadow, Duo supposed. Meiran had paused at that station briefly and laughed a bit, and Duo suspected that indicated a private joke of sorts between her and Wufei, one that ordinarily he'd have done his best to charm out of her so he could tease his partner mercilessly the next day.

The reason he'd known it wasn't a commercial for lipstick or nail polish was because of the music the advertisement featured. Another perfectly good song, ruined by Madison Avenue.

"Temptation eyes, looking through my mind, my soul..."

Then her question had registered, and he'd nodded. "I'm fine," he said, his tone clipped.

He realized he'd said those words out loud to a question posed to him by one of his employees as he stood there with the first man who had stopped him on his way to the legal department. If Duo remembered correctly, one worked in payroll and the other in either purchasing or accounting.

The man hadn't really been inquiring about his well being, Duo noted, because he thanked Duo for his time and went on his way. It was funny how the words 'how are you?' served as an all-purpose greeting. Most people really didn't care how the person they were asking was truly feeling, and even if they did, they were nonplussed if the answer was anything but 'I'm fine.'

Duo excused himself from the accountant he'd been pretending to listen to and continued on his way to see Janet.

The radio was playing as he'd expected. Johnny Nash was crooning how it would be a bright sunshiny day now that the dark clouds were gone.

"I hate this song," Nadia grumbled as she took a sip of coffee, then carefully placed the mug where it wouldn't get knocked over onto the computer or paperwork she was paging through.

Janet beamed at her as Duo stood there listening to their banter. "Vic is out this week, so they're doing a high school flashback this morning."

"Yeah," Nadia said, grimacing. "Class of Ninety Seventy Gag Me."

"Good morning to you, too," Duo said, glad for the distraction. Janet snapped to attention immediately, glancing at the paperwork in Duo's hand and asking if everything had been made clear.

He nodded, and she grinned at him. "Mister Peacecraft's original plan was modified only very slightly by Mister Winner, and those changes were typed up by Nadia while the rest of the proposal was reviewed," she explained.

"I saw the highlighted areas where you'd indicated changes from the proposal I received," Duo said. "You were very thorough." 

"You can drop that over there," Janet said, pointing at the table with the stereo on it. 

"... you never said too much, but still you showed you cared..." came from the radio.

"Gah!" Janet's sound of disgust drowned out David Gates as she recognized the song. Duo felt himself tense slightly at the lyrics, and he followed the example set by Janet earlier in the week and pressed one of the preset buttons.

"THANK you, Duo!" she said in exaggerated relief. "Oh, please, K-Mix, be good to me..."

"Momma needs a new pair of shoes," Nadia finished under her breath. She picked up her coffee mug and saluted Janet with it before draining the contents.

Janet started laughing. "Who needs the radio when I have you here for entertainment, Nadia? Ever think of doing standup?"

Nadia rolled her eyes and turned her attention to collating the pages spread out on the other half of the L-shaped desk.

"No sex, no drugs, no wine, no women. No fun, no sin, no you, no wonder it's dark..."

A loud crash followed, and Janet gaped at the retreating form of Duo Maxwell as he stormed out of the office.

Nadia's attention wasn't on her employer. Instead, it was on the mangled remains of the now silent radio.

She blinked a few times, then looked at Janet to see what she thought of what had just happened.

To her surprise, the blonde had a slight smile playing about her lips.

"Janet, whatever you're smoking, it's only polite to share."

"No, Nadia," she said, her voice quiet and almost reverent. "Don't you see?"

"The broken radio? Yeah, hard to miss."

Janet shook her head. "No, no, not that."

"Please enlighten me, Nostradamus."

"I know it will seem hypocritical of me, considering how upset I've been after Casanova put his dipstick in another car, but I think this is a different Duo than the one we saw earlier this week."

"Spit it out, Barbie," Nadia said, making a rolling gesture with her right hand.

"I think Duo just realized he bought a purple Dodge."

~~~~~

Heero had just finished washing his breakfast dishes when he heard a knock at the door. He opened it to find Trowa on the other side, holding the suitcase Heero had purchased the previous day.

"You forgot something," Trowa said.

"So I did," Heero replied. He held the door open wider and gestured for the other man to come in, then closed the door when Trowa did so.

"I appreciate your bringing it over," Heero said. "I was just going to start packing."

Trowa's face was unreadable. "It's not like you to forget things, Heero." He followed Heero into his bedroom.

Heero moved the bed out of the way and retrieved the metal box from under the floor. "Did I ever thank you for this?" he asked.

"You paid me for it; no thanks were needed."

Heero removed several articles of clothing from the closet and folded them neatly, placing them in the suitcase before opening the metal box. He double checked the contents, removed the key that was nestled in the foam, and closed and locked the box. He set it on the layer of clothes in the suitcase and reached into his pocket. He added the key to the ring he withdrew before returning to the task of folding and packing.

"Do you love him?" Trowa asked suddenly.

Heero's entire body froze, and he felt a sharp pang in the region of his heart. He took several calming breaths.

"What?"

"You heard me. Do you love him?"

Heero looked at Trowa's impassive expression. The man never gave a sign of what he was feeling. Then he realized whom Trowa was referring to.

"Yes," he said. "I do."

Trowa sighed. "He loves you, too, you know. He has ever since he found you."

Heero closed his eyes briefly before straightening and turning to face his guest. "I'm sorry, Trowa."

Trowa laughed softly. "He does have a way of getting under your skin, doesn't he? I think he might be very good at infiltration."

Heero realized that in all the time he'd known Trowa and considered him a friend, he really knew very little about the man.

"Do you have any beer?"

When Heero shook his head, Trowa asked, "would you like some?"

One look at the clock indicated he had plenty of time before his evening flight. "Sure."

By the time Trowa returned with a six pack, Heero was packed and ready to go.

They both sat and drank the first bottle in companionable silence. It was much like being at the bar, except Trowa never drank when he was working. In fact, Heero couldn't remember having seen him drink even after hours.

Then again, he himself had made a habit of avoiding alcohol around most people.

It seemed that he and Trowa had a lot in common, he mused. Much, much more than he'd ever have imagined. Lyrics to a J. Geils song ran through his head until Trowa asked him a question.

"There really is a difference between loving someone and being in love with someone, isn't there?" Trowa asked.

"Is that a rhetorical question?"

"That's up to you."

Heero took a long swallow of beer before answering.

"Yes," he said. "There is a difference. Sometimes the difference is like night and day, but other times, I think that 'loving' and 'being in love' are as closely related as love and hate are."

"Is it worth it, do you think?"

Heero rolled the bottle between his hands as he thought about how to respond to that. "_Suru noha shippai nanimo shinai noha daishippai_," he recited. "Doing is a mistake; not doing is a huge mistake."

"I suppose I should be glad, then," Trowa said, "that I only made a mistake."

Heero's lips curled into a self-deprecating smirk. "Me too."

"Are you..." Trowa took a deep breath. "Are you IN love with him, Heero?"

It took Heero a while to answer before he said, "No."

Trowa felt some of the tension in his body leave him. He glanced over at Heero before lifting the corner of the beer label and pulling. "How did you two meet?"

"He wanted to rescue me," Heero said.

Trowa nodded. "It's one of the reasons I -" he promptly shut his mouth. "He cares a lot. About you, about everyone. I was worried, at first, when he brought you to the bar. I wanted to rail at him, tell him that he was insane for taking in a stray biped."

"I know," Heero said. "I never thanked you for accepting me, either."

"Do you believe in destiny, Heero?"

"That question seems to come up a lot," Heero said. "But no. No, I don't."

Trowa looked at him sharply, as if Heero's tone of voice belied his words.

"When you were a child, did you ever play 'cat's cradle,' Heero?"

"That's the finger game with the yarn?"

Trowa snorted. "Yarn, or string. It's all one continuous circle, but you manipulate it, and each time, you end up with another pattern."

Heero nodded. Trowa didn't need to say anything else, nor did he. The analogy was clear.

Heero was on his third beer by then, and Trowa on his second. The latter glanced at the clock.

"I've been here long enough that I can legally drive," he said, shaking his bottle to show it was only half-empty. "I'll be back around five to pick you up."

They both stood up, and Trowa headed for the door. Heero held up a finger to indicate that Trowa should wait.

He rummaged through a drawer near the sink and pulled out a pad of paper and scribbled something on it.

"Just in case," he said, folding up the paper into quarters as he walked toward the door. To Trowa's surprise, Heero's arms came around him suddenly. He returned the embrace tightly. Heero's hand slipped into his back pocket before they pulled away, and he winked at Trowa.

"You've been living with Quatre far too long," Trowa said, shaking his head. "See you later," he said.

Heero thanked him again, then closed the door behind him.

Before heading down the stairs and out to his car, Trowa reached into his pocket and withdrew the paper Heero had given him. As he unfolded it, something fell on the floor. He glanced at the paper. It was a phone number, just as he'd suspected. He didn't recognize the area code.

He bent over and picked up the item that fell. His brows drew together as he looked at the broken pencil in confusion. He shoved both the phone number and the writing implement back into his pocket and left the building.

~~~~~

"You should have let me tell him," Wufei told his wife. They'd just reached the appropriate boarding gate and were waiting for their flight to be called.

"You say a word to him and I will personally make sure you suffer from monorchidism."

"He has a right to know, Meiran!"

She shook her head. "You are not to butt in, Wufei. I mean it. There is more to all of this than what Heero does for a living."

"What the hell do you mean? Duo thinks he's a prostitute. I need to correct that assumption."

Meiran's eyes were flashing angrily. She was tempted to point out that, for all they knew, Heero really was a prostitute when he met Duo, but that would send the argument in a different direction. She closed her eyes and sighed.

"Wufei, you're being a typical man," she said. She opened her eyes again and stared into his. "Would it make any difference if I were working full time somewhere? Would it change how you felt about me if I told you I wanted to go out and earn a living instead of doing volunteer work?"

"Of course not!" he snapped.

She held out her hands as if to say 'see?'

"Meiran," he began, but her words had him doubting himself again.

"I'm right, aren't I?"

"Yes, dear," he said sarcastically.

"You're such a bear when you admit you've come from the dark side over into the light."

"I just..."

"I know, Wufei," she said, and her voice was full of tenderness. "You don't like to admit it, Chang, but you have a big heart. I know you care for Duo, but this is one of those things where he needs to sort it out by himself. Interference from us will only cloud the issue. Whatever happens or doesn't happen must be the result of Duo's own choices. Let it run its course."

He merely grunted. Just because he agreed with his wife didn't mean he had to be happy about it.

~~~~~

After calling his father's room to inform him that he'd arrived, Quatre fought the temptation to shift his weight from one foot to the other. The minutes seemed to drag as he waited for in the lobby of the Loews Beverly Hills hotel.

It was hard to believe he'd been here just over twenty-four hours ago with Heero. He almost expected to run into Dorothy Catalonia again, but of course she had much bigger fish to fry. That didn't mean she wouldn't be a thorn in his side in the future, but for now, he was nervous enough regarding the upcoming meeting.

Then his father was there, shaking his hand in greeting. They made their way from the hotel lobby to the restaurant. Before he knew it, they were seated and provided with glasses of water. Quatre wasn't sure if he was relieved or disappointed that it was a different table than the one he and Heero had dined at.

Once they'd placed their order Quatre leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table and folding one hand over the knuckles of the other.

Business first, he decided. Then anything else they had to say would not color his father's reactions of the deal he'd successfully closed with their new business partners.

"We are now equal shareholders in the newly incorporated Sanquhar," Quatre began.

He illustrated the changes he'd implemented to the plan that had been briefly outlined to his father when he'd received the call from Milliardo Peacecraft on his cell phone the previous morning.

He provided his first impressions of their new partners. Milliardo he described as driven and ambitious, potentially ruthless if need be. Wufei Chang, he told his father, was open and up-front, most likely honest to a fault. Relena brought a sense of youthful eagerness for changes.

"And Duo Maxwell?" his father prompted.

Quatre considered the brief contact he'd had with the man. "Duo had other pressing matters to address," he said. "I did not spend enough time with him -"

"Come, come, Quatre," came the amused reply. "First impressions are formed almost instantly. Forget what you think Maxwell can bring to the table. Tell me what you think of _him_."

Quatre needed to do no more than think of his roommate. Just before he'd left the apartment, Heero had stood up and walked over to him.

He'd been surprised, thinking that Heero had had enough for one day. Then Heero had held out his right hand. Quatre had accepted it automatically, without hesitation.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Quatre Raberba Winner," Heero said. "My name is Heero Yuy." He'd smiled at Quatre's stunned expression and gave an almost imperceptible squeeze before letting go. "Enjoy your breakfast, Quatre."

Quatre had one hand on the doorknob when Heero spoke again.

"Quatre," he'd said. Once Quatre had turned around to face him, wondering if Heero had changed his mind, the dark haired man looked at him with the gravest of expressions. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"I'm only going to breakfast with my father," Quatre had replied with a roll of his eyes.

Heero had winked at him then. "It may be good advice later on."

Quatre had the answer his father was looking for.

"I trust him," he said, and he meant it.

~~~~~ 

After they'd eaten breakfast, they'd returned to the hotel room upstairs that his father had reserved before his arrival in Los Angeles. His father set about filling the coffeemaker with the grounds provided. He was silent as he added bottled water and waited for it to brew.

"You're probably wondering how I found you," his father said, seating himself in one of the chairs with a cup of the piping hot beverage.

Quatre sat on the bed, part of his mind unable to keep from marveling, albeit briefly, at the Tempur-Pedic mattress. He was making a clean start, he reminded himself; the last thing he needed was to start wondering how it would feel to use that mattress for rather strenuous activities. It was going to be harder than he'd thought to simply stop being a spintry.

"I'll admit," his father continued. "I did suspect for a while that Iria knew where you were, because there's no way that girl would have remained calm if she thought for a moment something had happened to you.

"I have to say, Quatre, you have loyal friends."

Quatre swallowed hard. "I do?" He winced internally as soon as the question was asked. So much for appearing the calm rational adult. He sounded like a shocked little boy.

"It was easy enough to find the bar. I called, asked for directions, and found it without a problem. The bartender wasn't very forthcoming with information, however. He managed to keep me from making inquiries regarding your whereabouts from others in the vicinity. I should be angry with that young man. I even showed him my identification, but he pointed out that Winner wasn't exactly that unusual a surname, and said that I looked more like him than I did like you. Then he followed it up with a comment that even if I was who I said, that didn't give him the right to betray a confidence.

"He seemed quite adamant about the issue of trust, I'd say."

His father took a sip of his coffee and set it down on the saucer he'd placed on the desk earlier.

"I had to hire a private investigator. Once he had your photo and knew where you might be spending some time, it was a simple matter to follow you home one night. It took a day or two to glean the information from your neighbors about which apartment was yours.

"Are you living with that young man, Quatre?"

Quatre almost choked on the water he was sipping. He felt like he'd been caught stealing. "Young man?"

"The one that works at the bar. The investigator said you had a roommate with messy brown hair."

"You think his hair is messy?"

"Quatre," his father said, looking at him intently. He opened his mouth to speak again, but didn't get the chance.

"I'm gay," Quatre blurted out.

"I see," his father replied, and Quatre wondered what meaning lay behind those two words.

Neither of them said anything, and Quatre could hear the humming of the laptop computer situated on the desk, right next to the coffee cup.

"This is why you left." It wasn't a question.

Quatre nodded, summoning all his courage to meet his father's gaze as he did so. "I was a coward," he admitted. He felt his face grow warm.

His father sighed. "I can't say this is the news that I was hoping to hear, Quatre. I don't think any parent is eager to hear that their offspring won't provide them with grandchildren. I know, I know," he said. "You're not the only child. It's just that I am being a typical patriarch. I'd like to have a grandchild bearing my name. One that does not merely because one of my daughters got pregnant out of wedlock."

Quatre couldn't believe he was having this conversation with his father, who seemed resigned, but accepting.

"And don't think I'm blind to Almira's faults," his father added. "That girl would drive any sane man away." He sighed. "I suppose I have given her far too much power, at far too young an age. I will need to remind her that being tactful is as important as tactical. She sees everything as an empire to be conquered.

"Don't expect her to welcome your announcement with open arms, Quatre."

"I don't. In fact, she may never accept it."

"So you do plan on breaking the news to everyone?"

Quatre nodded. "I owe them an explanation for my disappearance. Perhaps it might remind Almira that she needs to be mindful of her audience when she gets on a soapbox." He took a deep breath.

"Dad," he said tentatively. "I thought perhaps, with Sanq being in its infancy, we might wish to have an onsite presence until it gets off the ground."

His father drummed his fingers on the table. "You're right. I would never dream of leaving it in the hands of other interested parties, regardless of how reliable they may be. You will come home with me, first, as we discussed yesterday. Then we will review the logistics, and we will certainly find you a much more decent residence."

Quatre smiled, and his father shook his head.

"I would like to know more about this young man of yours, Quatre, when you are ready to tell me."

He chuckled softly at Quatre's look of surprise. "I do worry about you, Quatre, no matter how capable I think you are.

"There is a silver lining in all of this, I suppose."

"What's that, Dad?"

"I can breathe easy now, knowing that Dermail's granddaughter won't be an in-law of mine."

tbc

~~~~~

jugulate - to kill, especially by cutting the throat

monorchidism - the state of having only one testis or having only one descend into the scrotum

biped - a two-footed animal

spintry - a male prostitute

Songs: _  
I Can See Clearly Now_ - Johnny Nash, 1972. _  
Everything I Own_ - Bread (lyrics and vocals by David Gates), 1972.

Brownie points for anyone who recognizes the song that resulted in the demise of the stereo.

Nostradamus - a sixteenth century physician, alchemist, and astrologer. He is reputed to have predicted many events throughout history, including both world wars. His quatrains have been subject to a lot of interpretation (and misinterpretation). I last remember his name being bandied about in the press following the attacks on the World Trade Center towers, with creative attempts to make one of the quatrains fit the events of September 11, 2001. Here's the ubiquitous random URL: http : // www . NostradamusUsa . com

Sanquhar - located in Scotland, has origins from "the eighth century when it was first called 'Sean Caer' meaning in the Celtic tongue 'Old Fort ' or 'Old Castle'" - at least this is according to one of the tourism web sites for Sanquhar (http : // www . sadta . co . uk / sanquhar . html)

Those unfamiliar with the Tempur-Pedic mattress can see this marvel of Swedish technology here: http : // www . tempurpedic . com / home . asp

~~~~~

Pia Bartolini - there are side stories that have been in the works since probably the sixth chapter or so, as well as a few that struck me as the fic progressed. I'm very pleased that you like the subtle progression. Oh, and ow! Watch where you wield those pointy sticks! :-)

Bane's Desire - wow, you've managed to stun me in a few words. Thank you very much!

Youkai Girl - I'm doing the best I can with updating, balancing real life and the writing. I won't bore everyone with Tales of a Flooded Basement and Other Household Adventures, though!

Kanon/161386 - Hopefully things are still continuing to take shape as questions are answered little by little. And I'm trying to write as fast as is possible and practical. Hope this one was worth the wait - it was a lot longer than I'd expected it to be.

darkrevenge - any of your questions answered yet? If not, perhaps in the next chapter...

blehblehboeh - patience...the answers are coming, if they haven't already been provided

holly - there are several reasons for the chapter title selection this time...hopefully answers to the other questions will be evident soon

Nikkler - thanks! As for the ending...you'll have to wait and see...

Chibi-libra810 - I'm glad you "got it" as far as the gun went...and yes, that was a fun scene to write. You can blame Heero for the little firearm foreplay fantasy, if you'll excuse the alliteration.

Kary-Asakura - and voila, the next chapter! No promises on when the next one will be ready to go, but with luck you're just as hooked waiting for that one!


	56. Deceptive Cadence

****

The Edulcoration of Duo Maxwell - 56/?

~~~~~

Warnings: AU, yaoi, coarse language, violence, angst, cliffhangers, red herrings, mention of various vices, random bits of useless knowledge, occasionally explicit sex, enough footnotes to choke an army of horses.

Spoilers: Nah

Disclaimer: I don't really need to be Captain Obvious here, do I? No ownership, no money being made, yadda yadda. Written for fun, not profit.

Archived at:   
http : // www . atsui . org  
http : // www . gundam-wing-diaries.150m . com / gw / Mookie / gwmookie . htm

__

Edulcorate (verb) - To free from harshness (as of attitude); to soften

~~~~~

****

Chapter 56 - Deceptive Cadence

"I guess there is no way to understand something that is hard to believe even when it's there." - _Never Wait_, Dionysus

At times it's so confusing, these questions of the heart...and patiently you'd wait, 'til I came to my senses..." - _The Search is Over_, Survivor

"...soon you'll know...I'll find a way to take back what is mine..." - _Loaded Gun_, Dionysus

~~~~~

Quatre quietly opened the door to the apartment and saw the suitcase sitting there in the kitchen, along with a duffel bag and the portable computer.

He found Heero sitting on the couch, reading.

"I see you are ready to go," he said sadly.

Heero nodded, then closed the book and stood up. He crossed the living room and enveloped Quatre in a hug, much like he had done to Trowa earlier.

"I will miss, you, Quatre," he sighed into the blond's ear. "And I wanted to thank you." For finding me. For being my friend. For pushing me toward the Ferrari. For showing me I was capable of love, and for loving me even when I wasn't.

Quatre pulled back and looked into intense blue eyes, feeling as if he were drowning in them. He brushed the hair away from Heero's forehead, exposing the thick eyebrows that were so often drawn together in dissatisfaction.

"You'll...stay in touch?" he asked, trying to keep his voice from breaking.

Heero ran a hand through Quatre's hair, his fingertips grazing the scalp gently.

"I'd like that. Very much," he said. "I left my cell number on the table. I might not be able to return any calls for a while, though."

They separated completely then, and the reality of what Heero was saying snapped Quatre out of his momentary stupor.

"Will you be put back on active duty right away, do you think?"

Heero shook his head. "Not likely. I will have to attend several counseling sessions to insure that I am mentally fit first, although perhaps I can get cleared for some deskwork in the meantime. It will probably all hinge on what the psychologist thinks of me after our meeting tomorrow."

"What about the fact that you..."

"I will likely have to inform the good Doctor Hunter of my recent employment activities," Heero frowned. "If I don't, and it comes up later, I may be subject to some rather unpleasant interrogation. By coming clean now, I can show that I've moved past it, and have overcome what could be seen as an 'overindulgence.'"

"Does Trowa know?"

Heero looked surprised at the question, then realized Quatre was referring to his job and not to the information he was going to provide during his counseling sessions.

"I mean," Quatre floundered. "Trowa has this...he doesn't approve of...he has a real issue with...illegal drugs. I think he'd be...pleased."

Heero nodded to indicate that he understood. "No. I didn't tell him. It didn't come up in conversation." He narrowed his eyes at his roommate. "How did you know I spoke to Trowa today, anyway?"

Quatre laughed softly, then reached a hand to Heero's shoulder and plucked off a hair considerably longer than Heero's, but not nearly as long as the one Heero had found on Quatre's sleeve the previous day.

"You're not the only one who can play detective," he said.

"No," Heero agreed. "I'm not."

"It wasn't your fault, you know, Heero. What happened to Kitty."

They'd never really gotten into exactly what had happened, because Heero hadn't wanted to detain Quatre longer than he already had, especially knowing his roommate had a meeting with his father that he was nervous enough about keeping.

Maybe it was time to come out and say it, though. He owed Quatre that much.

"We had a...disagreement," he said. "Just before I left. We had a case that was nearing a turning point, and I had only a couple of days off. I missed her, went back home to see her. I couldn't tell her where I was going, so I lied.

"Of course she knew me well enough to see through it, but she let me off the hook. Until I found out she'd made some new friends."

Quatre nodded, but didn't say anything. Iria had been the same way, wanting to meet all of Quatre's friends, not that there had been that many. She'd always felt that someone who was afraid to meet a friend's family had something to hide.

"I didn't have time to meet them, and she...she..." his hands made a few aimless gestures. "She was angry. I didn't have time to straighten things out, as I'd been lucky to get the time off in the first place. There were agents from three different field offices involved in the operation, as well as local law enforcement officers and the Colombian National Police. It took our task force months to dismantle that particular drug trafficking network. 

"There were a lot of civilian deaths. Not as a result of our actions," Heero said. "But the gangs involved - they wanted to protect and expand their empire. Homes were invaded, robberies committed, gunshots fired - a lot of it took place in Western New York, some of it in Massachusetts. It never ceases to amaze me at how widespread they all are.

"The federal government has unwieldy names for everything, worse than businesses. The Organized Crime Drug Enforcement Task Force. That's what this was, the combined efforts of a program involving damn near everyone - FBI, US Customs, even the IRS."

"And the Drug Enforcement Administration," Quatre said softly.

Heero nodded. "Yes."

"A number of agents took a leave of absence following that operation. The blood of innocents is never easy to accept. I sometimes feel like it should bother me more," he said after a moment. "The fact that it never ends. This is why I do it, right? Using what I know, what I'm good at, to break down the drug trafficking networks. To prevent the smuggling and sale and use of controlled substances."

"You like the adrenaline rush," Quatre surmised.

Heero exhaled, nodding. "I do. It's why I wasn't entirely satisfied working in the IT department. Sick fuck," he muttered.

"No," Quatre shook his head. "No, Heero. You enjoy what you do, but if you weren't doing this, you'd find something else to focus those energies on. You don't get off on the drug issue; you just feel the electric charge of pursuit. It's like I did when I was trying to convince someone to let me fuck him. It's not that I wanted it, but knowing I could, that was...heady."

Heero's lips formed a hint of a smile. 

"And then you'd talk them out of it just as fast."

Quatre laughed. "Double the fun, and I got paid for it, too," he sighed. "You're good at what you do, Heero, I'm sure of it. Keep in mind that you did bring an end to that particular drug cartel. If you didn't enjoy your job, you wouldn't be half as effective." He paused, then asked, "can you tell me more about Kitty?"

"There was a damned witness, near the end. Someone needed to make sure the guy didn't get whacked before he testified."

"You were that someone?"

"Everyone else, they had families. Noin wanted to stay behind, but I didn't want her to..." he trailed off, looking almost ashamed before lowering his gaze to his feet.

Quatre tried to peer under the bangs hiding his roommate's face. "Heero, are you telling me you felt you needed to protect your partner?"

"NO! Not...yes," Heero admitted. He ran a hand through his hair and looked Quatre straight in the eye. "She'd kill me if she knew that, too, especially considering..."

"Heero?"

"Kitty was shot and killed the day before I got back." Heero took a deep breath. "The height of irony, Quatre. She was just an innocent bystander in some drug deal gone awry. The buyer didn't have the money, so he tried to hold up a gas station, and she was in, quote, the wrong place at the wrong time, unquote. I can't tell you how much I hate that expression. 

"I went there, to the Exxon station, after I found out what happened, to make inquiries, acting like a morbidly curious civilian, no matter how much it sickened me. What a mistake. I wanted to kill the manager, Quatre. He insinuated that Kitty was involved in it. Know why, Quatre? Do you know why?"

Quatre shook his head.

"Because she was Colombian. Or maybe he didn't know that, maybe he thought she was Mexican, or Puerto Rican, or...it doesn't matter. I wanted to tear his heart out with my bare hands. I wanted to take his gas station apart brick by brick."

"You wanted Kitty back."

Tears were running down Heero's face, and he nodded. "And I wanted Kitty back. I should have gone back sooner, should have told her that I trusted her..." he wasn't able to continue.

Quatre cleared his throat and tried his best not to give into the tears that were threatening to spill over his own cheeks.

"Do you really think, Heero, that she didn't know that?"

Heero bowed his head and didn't answer. He felt Quatre's arms around him again, and he clung to his roommate with a sense of desperation.

It was supposed to be easier than this. He'd decided to go home, to face his demons. He hadn't taken into consideration that he'd only taken the lid off the box.

He'd lost Kitty, he'd lost Duo, and for a while, he'd lost his faith in himself. He looked up at Quatre and saw, not sympathy, but understanding.

Kitty was gone, Duo was gone, but Quatre was here, warm and caring and alive.

He needed that. He desperately needed that reaffirmation.

He slid one hand up Quatre's back, over his neck, until it was buried in the soft blond hair...and kissed him.

~~~~~

Relena Darlian dragged her carryon through the airport and decided she had time to stop for a cup of coffee and a sandwich. She'd barely been able to eat all day, what with the dark cloud that had followed Milliardo ever since Noin had shown up.

When she'd mentioned Heero's theory to her brother in the car the other day, it had occurred to Relena that Noin was still a touchy subject, if reminders of her job had the ability to make him go rigid. He'd been unhappy when he had to leave the Army and take up the reins of the family business, and had seemed to go through a bout of self-pity and anger whenever a letter from Lucrezia would arrive in the mail.

One day he actually broke something after receiving her correspondence, and Relena hadn't been able to resist digging the letter out of the wastebasket to see what had enraged him so.

She'd pieced it the torn pieces together and hadn't been able to figure out why news of Noin's decision to return to civilian life bothered him so. It was wonderful news, she'd thought, and continued reading the letter as best she could. Some of the words were smudged with sweat. She could picture her brother's hands gripping the page tightly as he tore it to bits.

__

"In order to... I must consider relocation anywhere in the United States. However, you know that the physical exam and drug test results will not...very optimistic about my chanc... Special Agent."

Relena read as much as she could, all the way to the bottom, where it appeared that Noin informed Milliardo that she would call as soon as she had news, one way or the other, and that she was sorry she wouldn't be able to contact him sooner.

Milliardo had avoided Noin's phone calls after that. It was easy enough to do, as he was at the office many long hours, for days on end. It had taken Relena a while to realize that he was having Pagan run interference, ostensibly because he was on his always on his way out, even if he'd just returned.

Lucrezia had stopped by a month later, brimming with excitement. Milliardo, who had not been expecting to see her in person, was caught off guard.

She'd found opportunities in three different field offices, she'd said, and of course thought that the one in Los Angeles was the obvious choice.

Relena's presence was all but ignored when her brother indicated that perhaps Noin should go where she was needed the most, and put her personal preferences aside.

Lucrezia had looked like she'd been slapped then, and said that was certainly very good advice. She'd spared a moment to chat with Relena before she left, but it had been obvious that she was eager to depart.

She'd tried again to make contact, this time after she'd obtained an apartment not far from the field location she'd chosen. She must have decided that the only way to talk to Milliardo was to visit in person, because that's what she did.

Relena had noticed then that Lucrezia's hair was much longer than she'd ever remembered it being, and had wondered if Noin had just started growing it since she left the Army. Her reasons certainly couldn't be the same as Milliardo's, but Relena thought it looked very pretty. She'd even told Noin that, before she left, after once again receiving the cold shoulder from Milliardo. She'd been even more frustrated than the last time.

The third time Noin came to visit, it seemed that Milliardo was over being inhospitable, and they seemed to regain some of the camaraderie that Relena remembered when they'd first started 'dating.' At least that's how she'd always seen it, but then she'd only met Noin a few times when Milliardo was on leave. They'd always seemed to be too close to be considered friends, although it was hard to imagine something as mundane as Milliardo presenting Noin with flowers and candy, and just as impossible to see Noin blushing prettily in response.

Relena had been too young at the time to understand that Milliardo, despite whatever feelings he might have for Lucrezia, still harbored a deep-seated resentment. Now that she was a bit older, she wasn't sure if he resented Noin for having a job that put her military training to good use, or if he resented their father all the more now that he had a reminder that his girlfriend had what he could not.

He made a point of calling it a civilian job, saying the words as if they carried heavy meaning. They probably did. Relena wasn't even sure if government jobs should or could be considered 'civilian,' but perhaps that was one of Milliardo's many digs at Lucrezia's career choice.

Noin tried, Relena knew she did. She had grown close to the dark-haired woman, and thought many times that this was what it would be like to have a sister.

She would not have called Lucrezia for help if she'd known it would make things worse. As she'd told Heero, she would always trust her brother's desire to do the right thing, but sometimes he made horrible mistakes out of an over-inflated sense of pride. Normally she'd allow him to do what he thought was best, but this time she was concerned. She, not Milliardo, had spent time listening to Dorothy Catalonia's many innuendoes.

Then Heero had stunned her speechless when he'd mentioned seeing Dorothy at the Tiara, where Milliardo had gone to meet someone. Relena had been so sure he was meeting Lucrezia, considering that she had recommended the hotel that housed that particular restaurant to Noin. It was definitely one of the more reasonably priced Beverly Hills lodgings. 

It had to have been the meeting with Dorothy that had changed his mind, or maybe his mind had been made up all along, and he'd wanted to convince himself he wasn't making a mistake. Lucrezia had obviously never made contact with him, or Relena would have known about it by now, from Noin herself, if not her brother.

She had assumed that Noin had been called back to work unexpectedly and just hadn't had the opportunity to let her know.

Relena had been both surprised and delighted to see Quatre Winner at the meeting. She'd known that Winner Industries had been in the list of candidates for the salvation of the Peacecraft Corporation, but Milliardo had dismissed them as a possibility as soon as he realized the kind of investment capital he needed.

She'd had a mild crush on the blond when they first met, before she realized that he was like that with everyone. Seeing him again was the second surprise she'd received after Heero's news about Dorothy.

The third had been when all eyes turned to Noin after the meeting had concluded. She'd been standing in the doorway to the conference room. The tension was thick enough to cut like a knife as soon as Milliardo realized she was there. Relena was grateful to Quatre for providing her with an escape from what looked to be a hostile situation, and part of her still clung to the hope that her brother and Lucrezia might somehow patch things up.

~~~~~

A short time later, Noin walked in the room where Quatre and she were catching up on old times, and she'd looked extraordinarily pleased. At first Relena thought perhaps a miracle had happened, and she really had gotten back together with Milliardo.

Quatre demonstrated that remarkable ability of his then, to be able to quickly assess a situation, and he very subtly shook his head before Relena opened her mouth.

Relena waited for the older woman to speak first, and to her surprise, Noin had said, "Tell me again about the young man you had lunch with the other day, but this time I want to hear the full version."

Her heart sank a bit at those words, because it seemed perhaps that Noin was combining work with what she'd hoped was going to be a social visit. Despite her disappointment, she'd rattled off what she could remember that Heero had told her, assuming that was the information that Noin was really interested in.

Noin grinned at that, as if the information confirmed something she'd suspected all along.

Relena wondered if Noin had come to Los Angeles to help convince Milliardo not to get involved in any business dealings with Romefeller, or as a lead on a case she was working. Although the latter seemed unlikely, Relena really wasn't sure how widespread these things were. It had seemed as though Noin might have been in the middle of something big when she'd called.

The fact that Lucrezia had agreed to fly to Los Angeles had caused the hope in Relena's heart to blossom. She really thought that, deep down, Lucrezia had come to see Milliardo, but not because of anything related to either illegal drug activity or Romefeller.

Noin had bid farewell shortly after that, but not before giving her a tight hug and telling her to keep her chin up and to stand up to her pigheaded brother. She said she'd get a lot more accomplished by staying true to her principles. Even Quatre had given one of his very slight nods to indicate that he thought Noin's advice was sound.

After Lucrezia left, Quatre stayed behind long enough to be sure that Relena was feeling up to the confrontation that she was bound to have with her brother. She'd smiled at him, because he'd asked her in a way that suggested he knew full well that she was more than capable of handling it.

Milliardo had been furious, Relena thought, and had alternated between random outbursts of 'what the hell were you thinking' and 'that damn woman has some nerve getting pissed at _me_' with bouts of complete silence. Relena continued to hold onto that girlish dream that perhaps that meant he still had a tendresse for Lucrezia.

Just before she and Pagan left for the airport, Milliardo had given her a hug that put Noin's to shame. Sometimes the key to understanding Milliardo was figuring out all the things he'd left unsaid.

Things hadn't panned out the way she'd hoped when she'd called Noin, but she couldn't say she regretted trying.

She crumpled up the paper the sandwich had been wrapped in and threw it away. It was time to head toward the gate where her flight would be departing. She had one homework assignment left to complete and she planned on working on it while she waited for the airline to allow passengers to start boarding. She picked up the Styrofoam cup of coffee that she knew she'd have need of while trying to wade through the novel for her literature class. The narrative style was terribly dry and the plot failed to hold her interest.

Although she didn't need her other textbooks until she got back to school, she didn't dare pack them in her checked luggage out of fear that they might not be at the airport in Portland when she went to baggage claim. The tomes made the carryon a bit unwieldy, as she found out the hard way. She sighed in exasperation when one of the wheels caught a nearby chair.

Using her free hand, she managed to wiggle her luggage loose from the chair leg. She tossed her head to get her hair out of her face, then determinedly took a step forward.

She almost spilled the contents of her cup over the firm body she came into contact with, and looked up to apologize profusely as she transferred the beverage to her other hand and flicked some of the coffee off her fingers.

She was dumbstruck, not for the first time that day, to see she'd run into one of Peacecraft Corp's new partners.

The slightly amused expression he wore didn't reach his eyes. She looked over his shoulder automatically and asked, "is Heero with you?"

She still had a long way to go before she could be trusted to speak in meetings concerning delicate matters, and she wondered if she'd ever have Quatre's tact, because it was immediately obvious that the question she'd asked was quite possibly the worst one she could come up with. 

~~~~~

Duo looked up at the window Relena had told him she'd seen Heero from, and mentally tried to estimate the location of the apartment.

His hands were clammy, and he wiped them on his pants before rolling his shoulders back and then walking to the front door. Fortunately he did not need to be buzzed in. He turned the knob and headed up to the second floor.

He looked down the hallway to the right and narrowed it down to one or two doors. He stopped outside the nearest one and held up a hand to knock, when he thought he heard something.

The walls were paper-thin, and Duo was briefly thankful for the relative isolation of the penthouse suite before a second groan was heard inside the apartment.

He was completely stricken by the sound.

No, no, NO! He would not accept it. Would not believe it. Bedrooms were not right next to the hallway doors. Even if the walls were poor sound barriers, there was no way he could hear someone doing what it sounded like they were doing. Unless they were very, very loud.

And he was spurned into action when he heard one word, shouted in the throes of passion.

"Heero!"

The lock was much like the one on the apartment he'd lived in with his mother, and it was simple to bypass by lifting the door up and away from the jamb just enough to free the latch. Once he'd done that, he slammed the door open, unwilling to believe, unless he saw with his own eyes...

Which he did, almost as soon as the door shut behind him after rebounding off a kitchen chair.

The first thing he saw was the half-erect cock - just before he was slammed against the wall by the throat. Instead of worrying about his supply of oxygen, which wasn't being cut off at the moment, he was more concerned with the person attached to that angry red member.

His eyes traveled up the body, and irrationally, he first noticed the man was slightly broader of build than he himself was. Not quite 'beefcake,' as Hilde would say, but wide enough that the only thought that ran through his mind was a the litany 'not Heero...not Heero...'

He was so relieved his legs practically gave out, the hand at his neck the only thing keeping him vertical.

He finally allowed himself to raise his eyes from a well-formed chest to the gaze of the man who held him prisoner. Understandably, his eyes held a mix of surprise and fury.

"Trowa."

The fingers released his neck as if on command, and Duo glanced over at a very uncomfortable Quatre Winner, who was equally naked, save a condom that dangled from his flaccid penis.

It was surreal, Duo thought. He was obviously dreaming, because there was no way he was standing here in Heero's apartment with two men who had obviously been rudely interrupted.

Except he was wide awake, and he'd barged into the apartment hoping to do just that, interrupt the coupling that he could hear from the hallway. This was awkward. Funny how he hadn't quite thought through the ramifications of breaking and entering.

Trowa brushed past Quatre, who ran a hand through his hair and looked completely miserable, despite the physical evidence that he'd reached his climax. Either that or someone needed to tell Durex to go back to the drawing board.

Duo looked away, and noticed the luggage that was in the kitchen, again feeling a sense of foreboding.

Quatre sighed, and pushed himself away from the wall. "That's mine," he said. "I'm going to Nevada tomorrow."

Part of Duo's mind registered that Quatre's statement meant that only Milliardo Peacecraft would be left in California, and that it would behoove them to have someone else stay behind as things got off the ground with Sanquhar.

Maybe it was a good thing he'd missed his flight, after all.

He was afraid to ask, but he should have realized that Quatre might suspect why he was standing there, in his kitchen, uninvited. The man had certainly been rather perceptive in the meeting earlier. Who knew how well his mind worked now that he'd been sated?

"I'm sorry, Duo," Quatre said quietly, acting as if he weren't standing there without a stitch of clothing. "Trowa was going to take Heero to the airport, but he took a cab instead."

Duo shook his head. Gone? Heero was gone?

With that, it was like a door slammed shut. Duo had gambled and lost. How many times was he going to be too late? He'd left the meeting too late and found Heero gone from the hotel. He'd gotten here too late, and now Heero was gone for good.

And right now he was standing in an apartment with one of his new business partners, who, from the looks of things, lived here. And was gay.

Duo didn't think he could flee the apartment fast enough.

~~~~~

Quatre's heart went out to Duo as he watched the door slam shut. He tensed slightly as he heard Trowa's voice behind him.

"I take it you know him," he said, walking past Quatre once again.

Trowa was half-dressed, wearing his jeans and carrying his shirt and shoes. He sat down and pulled his socks out of one of the shoes. Quatre was pretty sure they had been randomly thrown somewhere on the floor not all that long ago.

He realized that the condom, cold and slimy now, was stuck to his thigh, and he pulled it off, hesitating slightly before returning to his room to dispose of it. He debated the wisdom of taking the time to get dressed, but he really wasn't up to discussing what had happened with Trowa naked as the day he was born.

What could he say to Trowa now? He'd committed one of the worst bedroom sins ever.

He fortunately had the art of dressing quickly down to a science, and Trowa was fully dressed and tying his shoes when he returned to the kitchen.

"Trowa," he said, still not sure what to say. An apology was probably a good place to start. "I'm sorry."

Trowa shook his head, and he looked up, brushing his mussed bangs out of his eyes. He chuckled, but there was little mirth in it.

"And I used to complain when Cathy called me Triton all the time," he said. "That was our cat. He only had three legs."

Trowa rubbed his temples, then sighed deeply. "I just have one question, Quatre."

Quatre nodded, licking his lips nervously.

"Were you thinking of him...then?"

It was an odd question, Quatre thought at first. How could he not have been thinking of Heero, to cry out his name like that?

He forced himself to remember the way it felt, buried in Trowa, the warmth around his cock, the ragged breathing of the other man as they fucked.

He'd closed his eyes, and it had felt good, so damned good. It hadn't felt that good since he'd made love to Heero.

He choked on that thought.

He'd made love to Heero, but he'd fucked Trowa. 

He realized he hadn't actually been thinking of Heero, and had most likely called out his name just because it was the name that had been on the tip of his tongue in many of his fantasies, ever since he'd made love to Heero. It was a Pavlovian response, nothing more. He'd known damned well whose ass his balls had been pressed against when he came.

However, the fact that he'd looked at what they did as mere fucking, that, to Quatre, was a betrayal even worse than calling out the wrong name in the heat of passion.

Trowa sighed.

"I'm not going to lie and tell you it doesn't hurt, Quatre. It does. It bothers me - a lot. But I don't believe you used me as a substitute for Heero." He shook his head. "That's not why it hurts, so much, though," he said.

Instead of leaving, as Quatre fully expected him to, he sat down heavily.

"Quatre," he said. "I'm thrilled we had sex. It was damned good. I always knew it would be, with the right person. I've long suspected I was gay, but that was something I left unexplored while I was in the military.

"Then one day you waltzed into the bar, and I wanted you. Lust at first sight, and I knew damn well you were barely legal. I felt like some kind of pedophile, and yet I couldn't turn you away. I just liked having you around, to look at once in a while.

"Makes me sound like some kind of pervert, doesn't it?" he laughed softly. "Look, but don't touch. That's all I'd planned. And you looked a little bit lost, a lot like the way I felt when I was discharged.

"I hated that you sold your body for money, Quatre. I wanted to sate my curiosity, my lust, and offer you money myself, just to see what it was like, to feel what it was like. I wanted your hands on my body, your lips around my cock. I wanted you to be the one slamming into me if...when...I decided I was ready for that. I knew you'd be gentle when necessary, and hot and hard if that's what I needed.

"I couldn't do it, though. I would not insult my best friend that way."

Quatre closed his eyes and swallowed, wavering on his feet. He sat down opposite Trowa.

"Best friend?" he asked softly, then opened his eyes to see Trowa smiling at him sadly.

"Yes, Quatre, my best friend. My only friend, if you want to know the truth. I wanted you badly, but I got to know you, and I couldn't lose that.

"I eventually started to think of Heero as a friend as well, but I wanted to shake him for not recognizing what he could have with you. Your devotion to him has always been very hard to watch, Quatre. When I realized you'd had sex with him, I thought maybe it would convince me that I was wrong about a few things, but damn it, it changed nothing. Maybe because I knew that Heero didn't feel the same. Maybe because I thought he did, but I was successfully convincing myself otherwise. You two have always had a very ambiguous relationship."

"Trowa..."

"I think you need to decide what you want, Quatre." He stood up, then noticed that Quatre was nervously turning something over and over in his hands. Trowa reached over and stopped Quatre's fidgeting, then removed the item from the slightly trembling hands.

It was the eraser end of a pencil.

He reached into his back pocket and pulled out the half Heero had slipped in there earlier, then fit them together.

It was the same pencil. With the exception of a small notch in it, probably the result of a piece skittering under the cabinets, the two pieces formed an almost seamless straight line.

Trowa felt his lips twitch. "Stand up, Quatre," he said.

Quatre did so, half hoping that Trowa was planning to punch him in the stomach or something. He felt like shit and needed something to assuage the guilt that was eating him up inside.

Trowa dropped the pencil fragments on the table, then put his hand under Quatre's chin and tilted it up so they were eye to eye.

"I've already decided what I want," he said huskily. His eyelashes brushed his cheek as he leaned forward and very lightly touched his lips to Quatre's.

He felt the air drawn from his mouth and into Quatre's. He heard the sharp intake of breath and followed it with his tongue, lightly stroking Quatre's bottom lip. When he met with no resistance, he moved his hand up to the blond hair, burying his fingers in it. His other hand came to rest on Quatre's hip, and he sucked the lower lip between both of his, eliciting a moan from Quatre.

Trowa felt the hot flush of excitement throughout his body. He nudged Quatre's legs open with his right knee and moved closer, nibbling on the lower lip one more time before tentatively slipping his tongue into Quatre's mouth.

He had been celibate since his discharge, and he'd lusted after Quatre for so very long. On top of that, he'd been left only partly satisfied in terms of their first sexual experience.

Quatre moaned again, then slowly slid his tongue against Trowa's. Trowa sucked it into his mouth eagerly.

He couldn't contain the thrill he felt. It had been awkward, first-time sex, despite Quatre's extensive experience. Trowa had never lain with a man before, although he'd thought about it. He'd never kissed a man before either, and he groaned when Quatre started to become an aggressively active participant.

Quatre's hands slid behind him, cupping Trowa's derriere and pulling him closer until their bodies were flush against each other. A few heated moments later, Trowa pulled away reluctantly, panting slightly as his lungs reminded him of the duration of the kiss. Quatre's lips followed Trowa's for just a second before his eyes fluttered open and he seemed to realize the kiss had ended. His eyebrows furrowed slightly. Trowa noted that Quatre's brows, like his eyelashes, were slightly darker than his hair. But not, he remembered fondly, a darker gold like the hair elsewhere on his body.

"Trowa..." Quatre's voice, he noted with satisfaction, sounded almost wobbly.

He feathered a kiss over Quatre's lips one last time.

"I've waited this long," he said. "I don't suppose a few more months will kill me."

He walked out of the apartment and closed the door behind him quietly. When he reached the stairs, he took one look down the hallway and then placed a hand on either rail, pushing down on them experimentally. He lifted his weight up and swung his legs a few times, then cleared all thirteen steps, landing on his feet and dropping to a crouched position.

He stood up, unfolding his body gracefully. He couldn't quite keep from smiling again.

That's right, Quatre, he thought as he opened the door to the street outside. You damn well never kissed Heero like that.

~~~~~

Heero unlocked the door to his apartment and climbed the stairs, feeling like an intruder in his own home.

A layer of dust covered everything, but a flick of the light switch indicated that the utilities were still working. Noin had taken care of paying his bills in his absence as he'd asked.

He owed her, more than he could ever repay. He supposed Noin was almost as much an older sister to him as Kitty had been his younger sister. Almost, but not quite.

He had been stunned when he'd realized that Milliardo Peacecraft had to be Noin's ex, the infamous Zechs he'd heard about, on and off, since he'd known her.

It explained a lot. Noin and Zechs had been in the Army together, and by Noin's account, they'd been recognized as the cream of the crop in their battalion. Noin was damned proud of that. Her marksmanship exceeded Heero's, and she never let him forget it, either, if the opportunity arose.

She was always tense when she talked about him, though, even when she was in the middle of recalling a humorous anecdote. Her spine would stiffen as if she suddenly remembered who she was talking about.

She'd made a few attempts at reconciliation. Heero always knew when she had, because she'd come to work the next day more uptight than when she'd left, in a way that none of their cases ever did. Knowing Noin, she probably spent a good portion of her days off improving her aim on the firing range.

The biggest surprise had been when she'd cut off her hair. She'd never really cared for it long, as evidenced by her complaints about the extra time it took even to twist it up and out of the way. She'd seemed a bit put out, as if she had thrown in the towel in some sort of competition, but overall she was happier with the style, and it had looked good on her.

He briefly recalled the photo of Meiran Long with Duo's ex-girlfriend and wondered what Noin would make of Meiran.

If he were straight, he'd definitely go for someone like Meiran Long, if she were single, or Noin, if they weren't partnered together. Noin never let her personal life interfere with her ability to do the job. It was why he'd been unable to continue working. He could not honestly say he would be able to put his upset over Kitty on a shelf and go about his day as if nothing happened. 

He supposed there was just something about strong women that appealed to him. Knowing Duo, he was willing to bet that Hilde fit into that category as well.

He sat on the couch and pulled out his cell phone, dialing Noin's number rapidly.

"Yuy, it's about damned time you got back! I thought we had a date!"

He laughed lightly. "If you'd told me you were in Los Angeles, we could have flown back together."

She snorted. "You're just as guilty as I am, and besides, I was there on a mission of mercy."

"Euthanasia isn't legal for humans," he said solemnly.

"You're only getting away with that because you're there and I'm here. You are there, aren't you? Your apartment?"

"Your housekeeping skills are sadly lacking."

"Fuck you, Yuy," she said. "You're lucky I watered your plants."

"I don't have any plants."

"But I would have if you did."

"You're too good to me, Noin."

"You owe me a backrub for this," she groused, but with affection. "Are you going to be in the office tomorrow?"

"If I'm lucky, they'll release me for desk duty while I undergo psychiatric evaluation," he said.

"Well, hurry up and convince them you're sane."

"As sane as you, perhaps?"

"That makes two backrubs you owe me," she said. "Stop acting like you're on vacation. It's time to get back to doing what you do best."

The words reminded him of Duo's comment about his bedroom skills, and he realized that it still stung a bit.

"Some of us need our beauty sleep," he said, although his heart wasn't in their banter tonight. "And I'm not talking about myself."

"Fuck you twice, Yuy. Sideways."

"Have you always had such a colorful vocabulary?"

"Would you like me to switch to Italian? It sounds a lot prettier when I tell you to shit on your hands and hit yourself in the face."

That one made him laugh. It was Noin's favorite insult, and she was right, it did sound rather lyrical in Italian.

"See you tomorrow, Yuy, and this time I mean it. Don't make a liar out of me."

"I won't."

"Noin out," and with that, she disconnected the call from her end.

"Yuy out," he said quietly, folding up the phone and setting it on the cushion next to him.

He put his elbows on his knees and rested his chin on his knuckles.

The apartment was his, but it seemed like someone else's home. He'd thought he would feel the sense of coming home, and that it wouldn't seem so lonely, but it did.

The dust, the look of abandonment, only emphasized how lonely the apartment seemed now.

He would not be able to sleep until he'd remedied that. While he dusted, his thoughts unerringly returned to the person most responsible for his malaise.

He wasn't at all unsure of his feelings for Duo. He'd loved Kitty. He loved Quatre, and he supposed he loved Noin, too. He cared for and respected Trowa.

He'd given his heart to Duo.

He'd felt no guilt for kissing Quatre, at first. He'd merely needed that reassurance that there was someone he cared for that was alive. Someone who cared for him in return. Someone who was in front of him, someone he could touch, and taste.

The physical attraction they had for each other had nothing to do with it, although he supposed he might have ended up in bed with Quatre, if not for his upcoming flight. If not for the fact that Trowa had basically laid his heart on the line for Heero to see.

If not for Duo. It always came back to Duo.

Kissing Quatre was different. It was still intimate, and Heero supposed he'd always have feelings for Quatre that were difficult to categorize. He'd wanted to show Quatre that just as much as he'd needed that human contact. He didn't have to tell Quatre he loved him in words when a kiss did just as well.

Then the guilt had crept in.

If he'd met Quatre under different circumstances, he was sure he'd have been just as drawn to him.

That is, unless he'd met Duo first.

At least there was one thing he didn't have to be guilty of. He hadn't thought of Duo while he was busy kissing Quatre, because once Duo entered his thoughts, he'd broken off the kiss.

Then he felt as if he'd betrayed everyone he cared for, with the exception of Noin. Although, if he gave himself enough time, he could probably figure out a way that his presence near Zechs had negatively impacted Noin's life, too. It would be nice if his bucket shop stopped turning such a profit.

The kiss had felt right, though. It had been more than the chaste kiss Quatre had given him the night they met, but far less than what he'd shared with Duo. Perhaps they both knew that involving their tongues introduced a level of intimacy that neither of them felt was appropriate.

"It's all right, Heero," Quatre had said. "It didn't mean anything that you didn't want it to mean." And damned if Quatre hadn't looked just as guilty.

Heero now realized it had been a good-bye kiss. They were both saying farewell to the lives they'd been leading and shedding the cloaks they'd hidden themselves in for so long. And change is a good thing, Yuy, he reminded himself fiercely.

Once he finished wiping down the furniture with a damp cloth and deciding he could live with postponing the vacuuming since he didn't want to disturb his neighbors, he began unpacking his suitcase. He removed the metal box with the gun and set it on his bed to deal with last, then pulled out a pair of jeans. They were the same pair that he'd worn on Saturday.

Damn it, Heero thought, hanging the jeans on a hanger and putting them in his closet. Damn it.

After that kiss, he'd panicked. He'd picked up the phone to call for an earlier flight, afraid to face Trowa, ashamed that he'd enjoyed it, and mortified that he'd initiated it. He'd dialed Trowa's number instead, and as soon as the other man answered, he'd blurted out, "I'm sorry!"

That had apparently been enough to spurn Trowa into action, because it wasn't long after that that the bartender had shown up at the apartment.

It had been awkward at first, the three of them there together, now that Trowa knew that Heero had been intimate with Quatre, and now that Heero knew more about Trowa's feelings.

Then Trowa had turned to Quatre and asked how the meeting with his father had gone. Heero had been surprised that Trowa knew about the meeting, then he started to wonder how much Iria had told Trowa all the times Quatre had been avoiding speaking with his sister.

Even more surprising, though, was the realization that Quatre, the man with an almost uncanny knack for reading people, was oblivious to the signals Trowa was giving. He may have felt Trowa's sense of betrayal the other night after their argument, whatever it was about, but Heero was stunned that the blond didn't seem capable of seeing beyond that.

Heero supposed that was a good thing, actually. It gave Trowa the opportunity to let Quatre know when the time was right.

He could only hope he got the chance to do the same with Duo. He was tired of the merry-go-round of hope and despair he was on.

That was another problem. When he started attending the counseling sessions, questions were bound to be asked.

What was he going to tell them about Duo? He could not tell them something he hadn't told Duo himself.

It seemed he and Trowa had a LOT in common.

He would see Duo again, he told himself firmly, slamming the dresser drawers shut harder than need be. He hadn't really believed he'd lost Duo. He had faith in what he'd seen in the other man. He wasn't projecting. It had been there, and it had been obvious to Heero, if not to Duo.

It seemed harder to hold on to that belief the more time that went by, and it had been less than forty-eight hours since he'd last seen Duo. But hold onto it he would. He was almost as good as Quatre at reading people. It wasn't just his imagination. He wasn't wrong about the way Duo felt. He just had to be patient.

He bit back a laugh as he placed the last of the toiletries in the bathroom. He was looking forward to going back to work, returning to the comparatively uncomplicated lifestyle of trying to infiltrate, dismantle, and destroy the intricate tapestries woven by drug lords.

Once everything was unpacked, he threw himself on the bed, reaching for something that wasn't there. He pulled his pillow out from under his head and tucked it under his chin. He was definitely getting a teddy bear.

He could almost hear Esperanza's raucous laughter as he amended that thought to include the possibility of a stuffed cat instead.

~~~~~

Duo sank into his seat in the first class section of the Boeing 757 and sighed wearily. The section was empty save three other passengers who looked to be preparing to take a nap during the nonstop flight.

He'd been eager to get out of Los Angeles, eager to leave everything behind him. He'd been lucky to manage to find an available red-eye bound for New York, because he didn't think he could handle another night in LA.

Awkward did not even begin to describe the situation Duo had found himself in earlier.

The fact that he'd barged into someone's apartment and practically caught them _flagrante delicto_, however, did not bother him as much as it should.

He had been overwhelmingly relieved that Heero was not one of the participants.

Wufei was definitely the one who was flying back to meet with Quatre Winner. Duo didn't know if he'd ever be able to face the man again.

He frowned as the other details started to fall into place. He knew damn well he'd heard Heero's name. Knew he'd recognized the voice that shouted it at the moment of orgasm, before he'd forced the door open.

He felt a brief white-hot flash of hatred for his new business partner and shifted in his seat uncomfortably.

He also hated to admit that he'd liked what he'd seen before averting his eyes. Quatre was slender, like Heero, and from the brief distance in the kitchen, had seemed just as hairless. Apparently he and Heero had a few things in common.

In contrast, 'Trowa,' whose sudden movement had made Duo feel slow in comparison, sported a line of dark hair running from his navel to the dark curls that surrounded a rather impressive cock. Duo wasn't sure if he'd been impressed by its size, as it was only half at attention and hardly suggestive of its potential, or the mere fact that Trowa had managed to stay semi-erect even while he held an intruder at bay.

Let Wufei figure it out. Duo had had it. He'd tried to act on a whim, and all it had done was served to remind him that some highly risky ventures were doomed to costly failure.

The plane couldn't lift off soon enough for him. He felt both a sense of relief and loss as the city of Los Angeles and its lights were no longer visible.

He unfastened the safety belt as soon as the message light went out, indicating that it was safe to do so. He opened the overhead compartment and pulled out a pillow and blanket, which he dropped onto the seat below. He removed his carryon and set it down as well. His fingers hesitated over the zipper only for a second as he opened it so he could retrieve the novel Meiran had given him the previous day.

He could certainly manage to read the damn thing without thinking of who else might have read it and enjoyed it.

Once he'd returned his luggage to the storage bin and settled down, he opened the book and started reading. He winced slightly as Brigid O'Shaughnessy offered to buy the investigator with her body, but managed to continue reading until he got to a line that had him blinking his eyes rapidly.

__

//"Do you mean I oughtn't to chase after you? If that's what you mean why don't you say it right out?"//

Duo felt the page tear slightly under his thumb as he slammed the book shut. He dropped the paperback into the empty seat to his right and turned off the overhead light. He grabbed the pillow and stuffed it angrily under his head, then grasped the corner of the blanket and pulled it over his shoulders with a slight turn to the left.

Business travelers were expected to sleep on red eye flights, after all, and he was sure he'd have a long day ahead of him.

The first of many, he thought bitterly.

He dozed fitfully. Images of a naked Quatre and an equally naked Heero engaged in acts that were physically impossible flitted through his mind at random intervals.

By the time his flight arrived at Kennedy Airport, he wanted nothing more than to sleep for a week. He extended the handle of his carryon and wheeled it through the airport. He'd deal with the fact that the rest of his luggage was most likely somewhere at LaGuardia later. There was nothing that couldn't be replaced, at any rate. He gratefully climbed into the waiting taxi and gave his address, then slid his hand into his pocket to reassure himself that the contents were still there.

On the seat of the airplane, next to the one Duo had occupied, lay a paperback novel and a tangled mass of linen and bits of hypoallergenic fiber.

tbc

~~~~~

Deceptive cadence - a chord progression that seems to lead to resolving itself on the final chord; but does not

FBI - Federal Bureau of Investigations

IRS - Internal Revenue Service

__

Flagrante delicto (also used "in flagrante delicto") - while the crime is blazing, i.e., in the very act of committing a misdeed. Often used to describe adulterous spouses who are caught "in the act."

In case you are like me and can't remember what you read if more than a day goes by in between chapters, the bucket shop proverb was "_Kaze fukeba okeya ga moukaru_" or "a bucket shop profits when wind blows." Or, as Quatre pointed out, the world is interconnected.

~~~~~

CuriousDreamWeaver - yes, a lot has been happening...it's one of the reasons updates have been a bit slower (and real life being the other) - I hope you like some of the revelations in this chapter as well.

Lrigelbbub - glad you're still with it and enjoying it!

Nikkler - as you can see, things between Quatre and Trowa are certainly evolving.

Violette Mai - ta da! Finally, Heero's profession is revealed. You have to read between the lines a bit, but it's there!

holly - yes, the broken pencil analogy does trace back to the sculpture, and all the times Heero has used it as a metaphor. As for Quatre's father - I see him as someone who may have vastly different opinions than his son, but also a father who does honestly care for his children. Thanks for the continued words of encouragement. Hope this chapter lived up to your expectations!


	57. Liberty & Prosperity Violet Garden 1of2

****

The Edulcoration of Duo Maxwell - 57/?

~~~~~

**NOTE: If you failed to read the footnotes for the April 1st post, let me point out one thing.**

****

IT WAS A JOKE!

I certainly would not cheat you all by falling back on the "all a dream" ploy a la Bobby Ewing's death in Dallas...errr...dating myself now.

My apologies for any distress caused as a result of the April Fool's joke. Most of you were very good sports and I thank you for that!

~~~~~

Warnings: AU, yaoi, coarse language, violence, angst, cliffhangers, red herrings, mention of various vices, random bits of useless knowledge, occasionally explicit sex, enough footnotes to choke an army of horses.

Spoilers: Nah

Disclaimer: I don't really need to be Captain Obvious here, do I? No ownership, no money being made, yadda yadda. Written for fun, not profit.

Pairings: 2x1x2, 3+4, 4x3, 5+M/5xM

Archived at:   
http : // www . atsui . org  
http : // www.gundam-wing-diaries . 150m . com

Edulcorate (verb) - To free from harshness (as of attitude); to soften

~~~~~

Just to reiterate - this is the _real_ chapter 57, if you were unfortunate enough to read my (cough) whimsical attempt at an April Fool's joke. If you read a version titled "Bringing Mayflowers" - that's the fake one. 

~~~~~

****

Chapter 57 - Liberty and Prosperity in the Violet Garden - Part 1 of 2

"I've forgotten you...The way you walked, the way you talked...I couldn't say for sure today whether your eyes were blue or gray...I've forgotten you, I never think of you...oh, what a lie..." - Performed by an unnamed African cabaret singer, _Yellow Iris_, Agatha Christie

~~~~~

Heero sat on the examination table, wearing the paper gown that had been provided, and looked at the framed degrees and certificates on the wall opposite. Kaydence Stevenson was apparently fairly young, based on the dates of her residency.

A firm knock sounded on the door and he was pleased that he was not kept waiting for very long. He acknowledged the knock to indicate he was ready and was surprised to see a petite woman with prematurely gray hair, pulled back loosely and pinned behind her head. Her face was smooth and unlined, and she smiled at him warmly.

"Heero Yuy," she said, extending a hand. "Kay Stevenson. Welcome back."

He was partially relieved that the normal protocol required the filling out of a standard questionnaire. A complete blood screening would be performed regardless of the answers provided, but the sheet of yes-no questions meant he did not need to enter a discussion of his promiscuity with the doctor. Not with this one, at least.

"One of the nurses will be in to draw your blood shortly," she said. "That provides two witnesses that the blood did indeed come from you." She showed him the vials, explained the battery of tests that would be performed on various bodily fluids.

"I obviously don't need to check for foreign substances on your person," she said, gesturing to his disposable attire, "so you know what to do." She handed him a cup and pointed to a door that was behind a curtain that was pulled halfway around the examination table. He accepted the container and entered the bathroom, which contained nothing more than a toilet and a toilet paper dispenser.

He brought the cup back and she capped it. "Please note the numbers on the specimen bottle as well as the envelope," she requested, peeling a large strip of adhesive tape off a sheet of labels and using it to seal the jar. She then had him sign his name across the tape after he'd verified the numbers matched.

She added her signature below his and placed the cup in the envelope. As if on cue, a young male nurse entered with a tray containing more of the labels as well as several vials, an elastic band, and a syringe in two individually wrapped sections.

Heero again had to confirm that the labels matched his identification number and they were applied to the vials. Within moments, the band was around his upper arm and the needle inserted intravenously.

He said nothing as several vials were filled, although Stevenson and the nurse made idle chitchat about the weather and similarly innocuous topics. From their conversation Heero gathered the young man's name was Trey.

After Trey removed the needle and Heero was told to hold the gauze in place, Doctor Stevenson sealed the vials with more of the coded adhesive tape and they went into a smaller envelope. Heero signed across the tape on the flap, then both envelopes left with the nurse on his way out.

"Heero," Stevenson said, firmly closing the door before turning to face him. "I understand you have an appointment with Jamie after we're done here, so I won't keep you longer than is necessary."

"Thank you."

"However," she said. "I must review the answers you provided on your health history with you before I can forward a recommendation one way or another. I must ask first; do I have your permission to share information with Jamie if I find anything that I believe would be beneficial?"

Heero frowned. "Beneficial to whom?"

"To you, of course," she said.

"I wish to be informed first and foremost of any results before I can make that determination."

"Understood. Trust me, Heero, patient confidentiality will not be compromised."

There was a bit of unspoken communication, a measuring of each other, before Heero broke the silence.

"I am no longer engaging in risky sexual behaviors."

She nodded slowly. "I rather suspected that was the case." She pulled a pair of glasses out of a pocket in her white coat and put them on. It seemed to Heero as if she were hiding behind them, and he realized he was projecting his fears about the test results onto the doctor's innocuous behavior.

"I assume you will your reasons for such activity will be discussed with Jamie later this morning. Now," she said, putting her stethoscope in her ears and moving behind him. "This is going to be cold..."

~~~~~

Two hours later, Heero was seated in Doctor Hunter's waiting room. His hands were clasped hands between his knees and he was looking down at his feet while he waited for the receptionist to indicate that the psychologist was ready to see him.

As he'd expected, his physical health was fine. The only thing unknowns were dependent on the results of his lab work. The drug testing would be done on site, but the other tests would be sent to an independent laboratory. They'd be repeated two more times in the future as well, to insure that he was, indeed, free of any communicable diseases.

Although he was well aware of the risks of any sexual activity, he was not particularly concerned. He'd been more than careful. It had been the feeling of someone pounding into him, letting his mind go in that other place, that had been the driving force. He hadn't been out to self-destruct by way of a compromised immune system or even a fiery burning in his nether regions. He winced at the visual image that those thoughts conjured.

He would feel better, though, once he was sure. Then and only then would he know that he hadn't put anyone else at risk. He wasn't worried about Quatre, as it had been just that one time, and that had happened before he'd accepted other sex partners. He did, however, worry about Duo.

The sound of his name being called pulled him from his self-recrimination. He stood and walked into the room where a middle-aged man was gesturing for him to enter.

Jameson Hunter introduced himself and they shook hands before the psychologist took a seat in one of the armchairs. Heero followed suit and waited for the other man to begin.

"I've looked at your record, Heero," he said. "And I am surprised I haven't seen you in here sooner."

Heero said nothing. He'd already covered this with Quatre. You couldn't get emotionally involved in the cases. Once you started doing that, you might as well turn in your badge.

"Why don't you tell me what I don't see in the file?"

It was easier the second time, to talk about Kitty, although, having an unbiased listener this time around, Heero chose his words carefully. He'd already gone through enough self-flagellation for his misguided attempts to rectify things and was sparing with the information he shared.

It didn't take long at all to explain what happened to Kitty, the thing that broke him when nothing else had. Hunter didn't so much as take notes, much to Heero's surprise.

Of course that was just the beginning. Hunter prodded for more information. Asked him to recall one good memory of Kitty. Asked him how they met. Asked him what the first thing he'd thought was when he heard she was dead.

"No..."

"What was that, Heero?" It was the doctor's voice, calm and inquisitive.

"No," Heero said, his voice a bit stronger.

The psychologist looked pleased. "Understand, Heero, that is a perfectly natural reaction. Denial is a natural reaction to a loved one's death."

Heero knew that. He was well acquainted with the stages of grief. They'd been reviewed with him, as well as a few others, to aid in their dealings with those who'd 'suffered a tragic loss.' 

Ironically, the agents had undergone 'grief training' in an attempt to prepare them for retaliation from family members of a well-known drug lord that had died during a skirmish. It was the so-called 'second stage of grief' that most agents were already familiar with. Some of the backlash from family would be due to pride, pure and simple, but heaven help the agent who wasn't prepared to accept a double shot of anger from someone whose identity was known but whose whereabouts were not.

"At what point did you start feeling angry?" the doctor asked, sending a chill down Heero's back as if Hunter were reading his mind.

"When the manager suggested it was Kitty's fault she died."

"Do you know why you are here now, Heero? Now, as opposed to right after Kitty's death?"

"I could not separate myself fully from my job. My performance would have been compromised."

There were several other questions asked, all seeming disjointed to Heero, despite their obvious relation to Kitty.

"Why are you feeling guilty now, Heero?"

"I wasn't there for her," he replied automatically.

Hunter shook his head. "No, Heero. I disagree."

Heero would have gaped at him if he weren't forced to realize the truth of what had been said.

"Heero," Hunter said after an uncomfortable silence. "You have a remarkable understanding of your own mind, your own strengths and weaknesses, and what you perceive as your own flaws. You've done more analysis on yourself during your leave of absence than I could ever hope to accomplish in the same time frame, at least as far as your post traumatic stress.

"One thing to keep in mind. It is not uncommon to have a relapse. Just when it seems that everything is under control, there's something that triggers the onslaught of memories all over again. Seeing someone who resembles Kitty might do it, certainly, but the other senses are just as capable of bringing back painful memories. Voices, background noises, and odors are very powerful stimuli.

"I have no reservations about recommending that you return to work immediately, provided there is no need for you to travel extensively or to bury yourself deep undercover where you will be unable to maintain regular contact with me. I will clear you with that one restriction with the provision that you must continue these appointments twice a week. Failure to attend a single session will automatically change your status to inactive, pending further investigation into mitigating circumstances and a reevaluation of your mental stability. You understand, Heero?"

Heero nodded, but his expression was puzzled. He'd expected he'd be lucky to get a desk job for the next few months. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it.

"There's something you haven't told me, Heero," Hunter continued. "And I have no desire to force it out of you until you are ready. There are a number of things that it could be, but I would stake my career on the fact that it has little or nothing to do with Kitty.

"However, I do not think it is something that you will allow to interfere with your job performance. You will not empower this issue, and I can tell that you've reached a good number of conclusions about it as well."

Heero didn't know what to say to that. It was almost like speaking with Quatre. His hand strayed to the cell phone at his hip. He touched it lightly then returned his fingers to the arm of the chair.

"We're almost out of time for today, Heero," Hunter said. "Keep one thing in mind. This five-stages-of-grief tripe is not like a recipe. You don't have to get through anger before you become depressed. You may never go through the bargaining stage. The important thing is that you allowed yourself to mourn, although I suspect not in a conventional manner, and you have gotten to where you're ready to accept it and move on. It's not just the acceptance that is important, Heero. It's what you do with it.

"You can accept that your house is overrun with termites, but that doesn't mean the house will be able to remain standing without damage if action isn't taken. You've called the exterminators, Heero. Our next few sessions will not only be to keep an eye on the foundation for signs of a new generation of termites, but to determine if carpenter ants have joined the party."

Heero thought his head might spin, but he nodded slowly, then stood up. Hunter did the same.

"You could put me out of a job," Hunter said, looking altogether serious, although a trace of humor and admiration was in his eyes.

He scribbled on a multi-part form on his clipboard, peeled off the bottom page, and handed it to Heero.

"Welcome back, Special Agent Yuy."

~~~~~

"It's a pleasure to finally meet the infamous Heero Yuy," Sally said, shaking his hand. "Sally Po, Mid-Atlantic Lab Rat."

Heero accepted the gesture in a firm handshake, not realizing that it no longer bothered him as much as it used to. Noin, who did notice, quirked her eyebrow at the minor change in her partner's attitude. 

"Infamous?" he asked in an amused tone.

Sally rolled her eyes. "How do they love thee? Let me count the ways," she drawled. "I was getting tired of the lovesick sighs I heard every morning. Apparently your arrival at the start of the workday was the highlight of the entire day for the front desk clerks."

"You're exaggerating, Po," Noin snorted.

"You think so? I swear, I thought the two of them were going to start wearing black arm bands," Sally said. "You didn't hear anything because you weren't the one taking his place. I suppose if I looked like your former Adonis," at this Noin rolled her eyes, "then at least they'd have had someone else to drool over. Although they seem to be fickle. After they tired of wishing I was Yuy, they seemed to find another man they'd met to rave about. They're probably tired of mooning over Blondie, though, so I'm sure they'll be thrilled that the original stud is back."

Sally leaned forward and peered into Heero's eyes. "You don't mind, do you?"

He met her gaze curiously as her brows crinkled in thought.

"Po, what are you doing?" Noin asked.

Sally's eyes moved to Heero's spiky bangs. "Hmmm," she said. "Just wondering what kind of chocolate this is. Not milk...must be dark. A lot of people don't like dark chocolate. They think it's too bitter."

It was Heero's turn to snort. Despite Sally's deliberate meandering from the topic, he knew what she was talking about. The two youngest members of the predominantly female clerical staff weren't exactly discrete. The fact that they seemed to be on permanent assignment at the reception desk was either a sign of brilliance or immense stupidity on the part of the DEA.

"Still not sure about the eyes, though," she mused. "So far they've been described using three different gemstones, two of the four elements, a country, two international cities, a vanquished kingdom, and four different flowers. Have you made a habit of flirting with them, Yuy?"

He almost recoiled at the idea, but managed to glare at Sally instead.

She glanced at Noin and gave her a sympathetic smile. "Guess I know what the grapevine will be saying tomorrow."

Noin waved her hand dismissively. "Doesn't matter. There are worse things to be accused of than getting hot and heavy with Yuy here."

Heero looked dangerously close to blushing.

"Hey, Yuy," Sally said, apparently not quite done with her light-hearted tormenting. "I don't suppose you have a platinum blonde Marilyn Monroe wig in your repertoire, by chance?"

'Lorelei Lee,' he thought, then blinked at her.

Sally shrugged. "Ah, well, I suppose they will have to content themselves with only one of their blue-eyed fantasies, then. Besides, you're just not tall enough." She ignored the confused expression on Heero's face and changed topics abruptly.

"I can't tell you how glad I will be to crawl back to Largo," she said. "And use a computer with a REAL keyboard."

Heero perked up immediately, all traces of embarrassment gone. "What's wrong with mine? It's orthopaedically neutral!"

Sally laughed. "I'm not arguing...it's just abnormal."

Noin half expected Heero to swoop down on his keyboard and cradle it protectively. Instead he walked calmly over to it and demonstrated the benefits by tapping on the keys, explaining to Sally all the ergonomic advantages.

Sally actually looked interested, even though she once looked over at Noin and gave an exaggerated roll of her eyes. Heero nudged her hip with his elbow to indicate he'd caught her.

Noin laughed. "It's your turn, Po. You should have seen him the week before it arrived. I think I knew the specs in my sleep by the time he got it hooked up."

"Yuy," Sally said. "It's not natural to type with your palms facing each other. It's like you're ready to hug the computer." She glanced at Noin, who held in the snicker that threatened to erupt.

Heero turned and glared at both of them. "You don't know what you're missing," he huffed. "If you want to develop a cumulative trauma disorder-"

Sally leaned over and put her lips close to his ear. "Yes, dear," she soothed. "Whatever you say." Then she leaned back and fanned herself, winking at Noin as she did so.

Heero glowered, causing Noin to let out another burst of laughter. "Neither of you are acting very professionally," he muttered.

"Pouting isn't exactly befitting a federal agent, either, but you manage to pull it off quite nicely," Noin said. She reached one hand toward his face.

"If you pat me on the cheek, you can forget that neck massage," he threatened.

Sally shook her head. "I don't know how anyone who spent any time with you two could think you were sexually involved. You act like brother and sister. Or maybe an old married couple, because you know they never have sex, either."

Noin sighed. "If you say so." Her tone implied she'd never personally know one way or another.

This time it was Heero and Sally who exchanged glances. Sally looked at her bare wrist. "Will you look at the time," she exclaimed. "I really should get packing. My flight leaves in the morning."

Noin looked surprised. "I thought you weren't leaving for another week."

Sally smiled at her. "I've managed to finagle a way to mix business with pleasure," she said. "How's the weather out west, anyway?"

"Iria?" Noin asked.

"Bingo. The two of us have only spoken on a professional basis since..." she noticed Heero's look of surprise. "Oh, sorry, Yuy. Iria Winner is a former schoolmate of mine. She's been kind enough to act as an external resource while I've been stuck here as a field agent."

"Iria Winner," Heero said. He shook his head and repeated her name. He shook his head a second time, then got up and made a show of checking Sally's sleeve and collar as if expecting to find something there.

"Do you think I'm wearing a wire?" she mused. "Want to pat me down, Yuy?"

He snorted again. "Just looking for any stray threads."

"Threads, huh?"

He nodded, then smiled. "Red ones."

Noin interjected with, "he does that a lot. Says something enigmatic. He thinks he's the Dali Llama or something at times, I swear."

Sally nodded. "Except I get what you're saying, Heero," she said. "Po isn't exactly an Irish name, you understand. I received my obligatory jade stone, too. Think you and I are destined to be together?" She tried to bat her eyelashes flirtatiously, but couldn't pull it off.

"I'd love to chat with you both some more, but I am sure you have a lot to catch up on," Sally said. She reached over and pulled a yellow Post-it note off the side off the bottom of the flat screen monitor and handed it to Heero.

He saw nothing but rows of tally marks and raised his eyebrow in question.

"I started keeping track of every time someone came in here looking for you," she replied.

Noin made an impatient sound. "That's an exaggeration," she said.

Sally shook her head. "Not at all. I'm not saying that they came in and asked for Yuy. They just poked their heads in and saw me, then got this puzzled frown on their face before leaving. Didn't make a big announcement that you were taking a leave of absence, did you?"

Heero shook his head, then frowned. "That reminds me," he said. "Alvarez, you remember him, Noin?"

She put her thumb and forefinger under her chin and closed one eye. "Oh, yeah. You worked with him when you went undercover about a year ago."

A dark look crossed Heero's face. "He needs to be reminded that he could have blown my cover, had I been undercover."

Sally showed no signs of leaving, despite her earlier comments.

"Tell me he didn't," Noin said.

"Apparently someone thinks that it's acceptable to approach another agent and identifying him for all and sundry."

Sally sighed heavily. "A rookie?" she asked.

"Yes," Heero said, at the same time Noin replied "no."

"He's an older agent," Noin clarified.

"Inexperienced," Heero followed up her comment immediately. "Age is irrelevant. He should know better. For all he knew, he could have caused irreparable damage to a case."

"You're going to tell Une," Noin concluded.

"Damn right," he muttered.

"Before I go," Sally interjected. "I wanted to let you know I left you a present." Her words were directed at Heero, who winced as she gestured to the computer screen.

"All the files I've been working on reside in Noin's network directory."

Noin nodded in agreement, then Sally shook her hand firmly. "I'll miss working with you."

"You don't think you're getting out of this that easily."

Sally laughed, a deep, hearty sound. "I do expect to see your ugly mugs via teleconferencing on and off over the next few months." Her face sobered for a moment. "I'm concerned. This substance is still showing up. Someone is carefully engineering its release so the occurrences are seeping primarily into the college sect."

Heero frowned, and Noin took a deep breath. "I hope you've eaten a hearty breakfast," she told him. This could take a while."

Sally bade them farewell with promises to call them from Nevada. As soon as she departed, Noin turned to Heero and gestured to the computer screen.

He sat at his computer, his fingers dancing over the keys quickly as he logged into the intranet. Much to his relief, his password hadn't been reset, although it did prompt him to enter a new one.

With Noin's running commentary, Heero spent the next two hours reviewing Sally's notes, ranging from transcriptions of emergency room cases and electronic sticky notes Sally had used to keep track of comments her lab colleagues had made off the cuff. A copy of the fax Iria had sent recently had been scanned and saved electronically as well.

"The question is," he said, pushing his chair away from the computer and leaning back, rubbing a hand over his face, "whether nor not Romefeller is a cover for another income generating operation, or if they merely have knowledge of what's going on. Either way, it looks like this has the potential to spread nationwide very soon, if it hasn't already."

"You were, of course, the person Relena hinted about," Noin said. "I wish I could say I figured it out myself when she called me with the information the other day. Damned Zechs," she muttered. She returned to her own desk and started powering it down. Her finger was on the monitor's power button when she turned her chair to face him. 

"It's good to have you back, Yuy." Noin's tone was matter-of-fact, but her eyes lit up warmly as if suddenly realizing it was the first time they'd seen each other in months. She looked far more tired than he, and Heero felt a twinge of guilt that she'd been dealing with this while he'd been...he tamped down on that thought.

He stood up and crossed to her chair, then spun it so it was facing away from him. He put his hands on her shoulders and started working on the tension there.

"It's REALLY good to have you back," she groaned in satisfaction. "If ever you need to take a second job..."

He grunted.

"I was worried about you. Wondered how you were doing. I should have known you'd find a way to stumble upon a potential case. Oh, right there," she sighed as one of his thumbs worked on a knot near her shoulder blade.

"Relena's a sweet kid. I'm sure you thought so, too," she continued.

He made a sound that she assumed was agreement.

"Something bothering you, Yuy? You're not usually this monosyllabic." His fingers slowed down for a moment before he resumed his work on her neck and shoulders.

"Relena Peacecraft is the type of person you want to protect, even though you know she has the strength to stand on her own. She just needs the opportunity to exercise it."

"See? And you only knew her for what, a day? Zechs never could see that she couldn't be shielded from reality forever. In another time, another era, he'd epitomize chivalry, I think, with a generous helping of aristocracy. He never pulled that protective male crap with me."

"He knew better."

She laughed. "Damn it, Heero," she said, leaning her head forward into her right hand. "I can't believe I went to see him."

"You're a good friend, Noin."

She groaned again, but not as a result of anything Heero was doing. He removed his hands and moved to the edge of the table where their printer resided, leaning against it so he was facing her. He crossed his arms over his chest and waited.

She looked up at him, taking in the eyes that Sally had apparently heard more about than she'd ever want to. Noin's own grew wide as something occurred to her.

"Noin?" Heero prodded.

"Zechs," she breathed. "He knew you had blue eyes." Her brows furrowed as she recalled Sally's comment earlier. "I never told Sally what he looked like, either. Son of a bitch! He was here, damn that asshole. I could wring their scrawny necks."

"Lucy and Ethel?" Heero asked, referring to the indiscrete clerks at the reception desk.

Noin was livid. "Yes, those two addle brained gossipmongers. Unprofessional. Damn them. Damn _him_." Her features alternated between fury, disappointment, hurt, and a little bit of that schoolgirl crush that Sally had affected earlier.

"I'm a complete idiot. Tell me, Yuy."

"You're an idiot," he repeated automatically. Then he repeated the comment in both Spanish and Japanese.

"The point is that he didn't trust me, though. Right? It's not going to change anything, just because he came here to see me. I'll bet it was when we were in Buffalo. Damn it."

She bit her lip and worried at it before releasing it.

"Heero," she said tentatively. "Be honest. Not that I think you won't be, but don't try to avoid hurting my feelings, okay? Tell me the truth."

He looked at the pleading expression in her eyes and nodded.

"I shouldn't even be considering giving him another chance, after he made me feel like a nymphomaniac who couldn't maintain a modicum of professionalism. I should castrate him for even thinking I'd consider throwing away a relationship I invested a hell of a lot of time in - more than he ever did. I should be hog-tied to prevent myself from doing something stupid like calling him.

"We loved too young," she said. "Too young, too hard, and too much. At least on my part. Too damned much. I suppose the circumstances under which we met weren't exactly conducive to a typical wining and dining romancing, but I don't think I'd have thought of him the same way if it had. Comrades before lovers, though - wouldn't you think that would have set a solid foundation?"

She closed her eyes and massaged her temples. "I dislike this feeling...this temptation...to just forgive him anything. It's like there are two sides of my brain at war. One side remembers what it was like working with him, before the physical attraction kicked in. We worked together well, Heero, much like you and I do. You know what I'm thinking half the time before I finish forming the thought."

She looked up at him and he nodded.

"I think if it had started from simple infatuation," she said with a frown. "This wouldn't even be an issue. I respected him as a soldier first, then as a man. He respected me as well, but perhaps not as a woman.

"Then I continue to make these allowances for him, Heero," she sighed heavily. "It's got to be love, or extreme stupidity, because I seem incapable of letting him go, despite the fact that he's a pompous ass."

She went on in that vein a while longer, and Heero prompted her at various intervals with nods and grunts. It was apparent when she was done that she was more than aware of all of Zech's faults, as well as taken her share of the blame when it came to having a chip on her shoulder, as a woman in the military and as Zechs' rival. That comment reminded Heero of Meiran Long and Wufei Chang, although through most of it he felt the way he imagined Jameson Hunter must have earlier, watching someone work through their problems on their own.

It convinced him all the more that he'd made the right decision in California.

Noin seemed to come to a conclusion of her own. "Is it giving up too much of myself to offer him a chance to walk all over my feelings again?" It seemed as though she were asking herself, then she looked up at her partner.

"Tell me one thing, Heero. If I do give him another chance...give our relationship another chance...will you still respect my ability to make decisions in a crisis?"

Her words reminded Heero of another question.

__

//Can you imagine anyone going to the lengths Christine did for the man she loved? Could you ever be that devoted to someone?//

He reached over and nudged Noin on the shoulder with the thumb side of his fist.

As their eyes met, she noticed that his lit with determination.

"Yes."

~~~~~

The other half of Chapter 57 is coming...just need to proofread it...footnotes will be at the end of that...


	58. Liberty & Prosperity Violet Garden 2of2

****

The Edulcoration of Duo Maxwell - 57B/?

~~~~~

Second half of Chapter 57 - you DID read the first half already, yes?

~~~~~

PLEASE GO BACK AND RE-READ CHAPTER 57 IF THE LAST ONE YOU READ WAS THE APRIL FOOL'S CHAPTER.

The "joke" chapter has been replaced with the REAL chapter. This is the SECOND HALF of the _real_ chapter 57, if you were unfortunate enough to read my (cough) whimsical attempt at an April Fool's joke. If you read a version titled "Bringing Mayflowers" - that's the fake one.

~~~~~

****

Chapter 57 - Liberty and Prosperity in the Violet Garden - Part 2 of 2

"I've forgotten you...The way you walked, the way you talked...I couldn't say for sure today whether your eyes were blue or gray...I've forgotten you, I never think of you...oh, what a lie..." - Performed by an unnamed African cabaret singer, _Yellow Iris_, Agatha Christie

~~~~~

__

One last reminder: Please insure that you've reread the last chapter, if you did not already. The joke chapter has been replaced with the real chapter, which should be read before this one. Chapter 57 was split into two parts, and this is the second of the two.

My apologies for inserting so many comments about the joke chapter, but it's come to my attention that the headings are often ignored in the chapters, so I want to be sure no one misses the replaced chapter just because I was feeling impish on April 1st.

~~~~~

Chapter 57 - 2 of 2

Duo scratched behind his left ear as he signed the last form on his desk, then threw the pen down with a sigh of relief.

He had slept away most of the previous day, after arriving in New York at six in the morning. By the time he'd gotten home from the airport, he hadn't even unpacked before dropping his clothes haphazardly as soon as he crossed the threshold of the bedroom. He'd collapsed on the bed and fallen into a dreamless sleep.

The first thing he'd done when he woke up was call Wufei, who hadn't seemed at all surprised that Duo wasn't at the office yet. He'd suggested that Duo come back the following day, and he'd be more than happy to teleconference with Duo if he wanted.

Duo had declined. He'd unpacked his carryon and then remembered he still had luggage somewhere at LaGuardia. He'd showered and dressed, then transferred the contents of the pockets in the pants he'd dropped on the floor to his jeans. The dirty clothes went either in the hamper or on hangers for the dry cleaner, and he drove to the airport, stopping for a cup of coffee and a bagel on the way.

It had been grueling, dealing with the less-than-perky employee in baggage claim, but fortunately his suitcases had been easily located among the "unclaimed." Unfortunately the contents had been searched thoroughly as part of increased security measures, and he'd almost snapped at the airport official who'd insisted on seeing every form of identification Duo possessed before he was allowed to reclaim the disarray that was his luggage.

Then he'd gotten home and tackled the unpacking chore once again.

When his fingers had made contact with one of the cardboard boxes, he'd withdrawn his hand with a slight hiss. He'd shaken his head at the ridiculousness of his reaction and placed the two boxes in the closet of one of the spare rooms. The one furthest away from his.

His right hand had slid into his pocket for a moment. He'd pulled it out, along with some pocket lint, and scratched his head. He'd then realized the bagel hadn't been sufficient nourishment at all, and he'd ordered delivery food for lunch.

The last chore he'd decided to tackle was his grocery shopping, and after that he'd plopped on his sofa with the remote control. He'd forced himself to watch another recycled movie plot before turning off the television all together.

The night had seemed to drag, Duo remembered, rubbing his temples rather vigorously. It was good to be in the office, where things were back to normal. Wufei had acted as if it were just another day, and for that Duo was grateful. The only thing he couldn't pretend didn't exist was their latest acquisition. That, and Meiran's suggestion for relocation.

His cell phone rang, and he picked it up, noting the phone number on the display with surprise. He stood up and placed his right hand in his pocket, the left one holding the phone to his ear after he accepted the call.

"What's the matter?" he asked gruffly. "Thought of a few more things you forgot to tell me?"

"Duo," she said. "I'd like to see you."

Duo closed his eyes briefly, then opened them. He supposed he was curious, more than anything.

"Fine."

~~~~~

They hadn't been at this restaurant for nearly a year, Duo realized, as they took their seats at what had been their favorite table. It was funny how the little details seemed obvious now. How long had they missed out on doing things they used to enjoy?

"Are you feeling OK, Duo?" she asked, concern etched on her features.

"Worried I'm languishing over a broken heart?" he asked, his eyes narrowing.

"No!" she said. "No, of course not. You just seem tired."

He rubbed the back of his neck. "I _am_ tired, Hilde. I spent a week tap dancing around the whole Peacecraft issue, and for once things didn't go quite the way I envisioned."

"So Meiran said," she replied carefully. She took a sip of her drink. Her moistened lips glistened. "That's not necessarily a bad thing, Duo."

"Stop putting words in my mouth," he growled.

She put down her glass and sighed. "Duo," she said. "I would never dream of trying to anticipate what will come out of your mouth."

"I certainly don't proclaim that I'm an expert at what comes out of yours, either."

She frowned slightly. "I'm sorry, Duo. That's why I wanted to talk to you. About that phone call -"

His eyes grew wide and he raised an eyebrow. "You want to get back together?"

She laughed, ignoring the scowl that resulted. "Don't be ridiculous, Duo. If it didn't work the last twelve times we tried, what makes you think it would work this time?"

"Thirteen is a lucky number," Duo said.

"Duo," she said, her smile turning wistful. Her right hand reached over to grab his left. "I am sorry I broke up with you the way I did, over the phone. It was cowardly of me, I suppose, but I didn't want to wait until you came back. I felt that would be almost like lying, to pretend I'd be there waiting, the faithful puppy, eager to see her master again."

"I've never treated you like that."

She nodded. "I know you didn't, Duo. That's not the point and you know it. I just thought you'd like to know as soon as I did."

"Why then?" he asked. "Why not _before_ I left for California?"

She blushed slightly. "This will sound stupid."

"I'm used to that from you," he said, his grin appearing almost genuine. She lightly kicked him under the table.

"I didn't know, Duo," she confessed. "I thought everything was fine. Then you left, and I realized I felt relieved."

"Relieved."

"Yes," Hilde nodded again. "It was like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. Not that you are a burden, Duo, but I wasn't as tense as I had been." She shook her head. "This is not coming out right. I just knew that it was a good thing you were gone, and that isn't how it should feel when someone you love is away."

"Someone you love," he repeated slowly.

She winced. "I do love you, Duo. I think part of me will always love you. It's just...take Meiran for example. She and I see each other rarely, and we only know each other through you and Wufei. Yet I enjoy spending time with her when our paths cross, like they did this morning, and once in a while I think it would be nice to do it again, but I can't say I actually miss her." She picked up one of the forks off the table. "I felt that way when you were gone. I love you, Duo, but...I guess the thing is...I've realized I'm not IN love with you."

She set the fork down, and Duo noticed it was bent slightly.

"You love me, but aren't in love with me."

"That's right."

"What about sex, Hilde?"

"What?"

He leaned over the table slightly. "You're saying that you want us to remain friends, I assume."

"Of course, Duo."

"With benefits?"

If he'd hoped for a stunned reaction, he was disappointed. "If I thought you could handle it, Duo, sure."

He sat back. "Sure?"

"You're a good lay, Duo," she said with a shrug. "You know that, because I don't fake anything. The thing is, Duo, that sometimes sex makes you think that there is more to a relationship. I think it would be a mistake to resume the physical side of ours until we are comfortable with our new status as friends." She eyed him carefully. "Then, maybe, with benefits."

~~~~~

Duo wasn't sure what Hilde meant by all that. That was to say, he did, but for some reason he had a hard time applying her logic to other...situations.

There was too much going on at the office, he decided, that was making it difficult to focus. Wufei had been making arrangements to fly back to California to keep an eye on Sanquhar's development, and apparently Meiran was planning to meet him there in a few days to scope out living arrangements. It was almost a done deal, Wufei and Meiran moving out West.

It saddened Duo a bit.

"Duo, your hair," Hilde said, breaking him out of his reverie.

"My hair?"

She nodded, reaching out to touch some of the stray wisps near his temples. "It's a mess, Duo."

He bristled, running a hand over the length of the tightly braided hair. "It is very neat."

"I know," she agreed amiably. "But the texture...did they stop making that conditioner you swear by? It's rather lifeless and dry looking."

He shook his head. "I switched to a different brand."

She frowned. "It took you forever to find one you liked."

"It was time for a change," he snapped. When he'd realized he must have left it at the hotel in Beverly Hills, he decided it was a good time to explore a lot of new things.

"And you have dandruff, Duo," she said.

He rubbed his hands through his hair, and she looked surprised. "Duo."

"What now, Hilde?"

"The dandruff."

"You said that already."

"No, Duo, I mean...it's still there."

~~~~~

The following afternoon, Hilde was wearing the thickest elbow length rubber gloves she could find. She was busily massaging medicated shampoo through Duo's hair. She sighed when she had to open a second bottle, and again when she got to the third.

After the seventh sigh, this one because she was trying to juggle holding the hair aloft and rubbing it with both hands while keeping it from dripping past the drop cloth they'd spread on the kitchen floor, Duo growled slightly.

"I'm sorry, Duo," she said, not sounding very apologetic. "But it takes a while to work it through all the strands, and I still have to comb it through to the ends. You could do it yourself, you know."

"And have that shit drip in my lap? I think not," he snorted. "Maybe I should just cut it all off," he added bitingly.

She snorted right back. "Yeah. I see that happening."

He bit back a reply and thought about it. Why not? What purpose did it serve, really? He'd grown it out to spite a woman he hadn't seen in nearly ten years. It was a bitch to care for, and it had taken him a long time to find just the right conditioner to get it to remain smooth...

"It makes me look gay."

Her hands paused in their ministrations, and she sighed again.

"Duo, I'm really sorry I said that to you. Maybe I was a little bit angry, and said things I didn't mean."

Like we've always done to each other, she added, finishing the last of the application and picking up a fine toothed comb, starting at the top.

"Really," he said, wincing as she hit a snag, but not wanting to interrupt her train of thought by correcting her technique.

"I don't know, Duo. Maybe I meant it, a little. The reason I called you yesterday is because I want to clear the air. You and I have known each other a long time, even before we got physically involved. I guess I hoped we'd still be friends, the way we were..."

The way we were before. The way we were when we weren't together. The way we got along when we were in between 'being together.'

Not necessarily 'with benefits,' she grimaced. Maybe that would be a mistake. A security blanket for both of them.

"I think you were right," he said.

Her hands stilled. "You what?"

"I think you were right," he repeated.

"Oh." She finished combing the shampoo all the way through his hair without another word, stripped off the gloves and set the timer for twenty minutes, then sat down.

"It stings," he commented. It took her a minute to realize he was referring to his head.

"Tell me again how this happened," she said, gesturing to thickly covered hair she'd piled on top of his head.

"I don't know," he shook his head, then stopped when she frowned at the motion. It toppled anyway, the wet mass making a smacking noise as it hit the back of the chair and the towel over Duo's shoulders. "The nurse I spoke to thinks I got it from the airport pillow." And I should have done more to it than rip it to shreds, he thought viciously.

She laughed, and he scowled darkly. "It's not funny, Hilde."

"I know," she said, trying to sound soothing but failing miserably. "But Duo, no one catches head lice from airport pillows."

"They DO," he insisted. "Apparently the damn things can live long enough to transfer from head to pillow to new head."

She started to put a hand over her mouth to control her snickers, then remembered that she might want to wash her hands first, despite the gloves she'd used. "I've never heard of anyone catching head lice that way. In fact, I've never heard of anyone catching them past the third grade."

"Well, apparently I'm special," he groused.

"Aw, Duo, don't sulk," she said, her tone light and infectious.

"You're lucky I love you, Hilde."

She stopped breathing for a second. "What did you say?"

"You're lucky?"

She made a sound of frustration. "You're impossible, Duo Maxwell! Do you realize it's the first time you've ever said that to me?"

"It is?"

She shook her head. "Outside of the bedroom, yes. You were never in love with me, were you, Duo? This, it's easy for you to say it now, because you mean it. Just...just not the way I'd once hoped you did."

"I'm sorry, Hilde." Duo's voice was very quiet.

"It's okay, Duo," she said softly. "You're just lucky I love you, too. And maybe...just maybe, I felt this way much longer than I realized."

They fell silent until the timer went off, and then Hilde put the gloves back on. She gathered the coated strands of hair and held as much as she could in her hands, then walked Duo to the sink where she rinsed his hair carefully.

"Hey, Duo?" she said, as he toweled his hair briskly.

He peeked at her from underneath the terry cloth hood.

"I was hoping perhaps you'd be willing to accompany me to a networking event I have to attend."

He grinned at her. "Friends with benefits?"

She punched him in the arm, recognizing it as a joke. "Beast."

"You and Meiran have got to start acting more ladylike," he complained, rubbing his arm and looking wounded. The towel covering his bangs ruined the effect.

"You know you don't mean that."

"When's the big gala event?"

"Don't worry, Duo, you'll have plenty of time to eradicate your little parasite problem by then. Unless you catch herpes from a toilet seat, or something," she teased.

Duo was in the middle of draping the towel over the back of a chair and picking up a wide toothed comb when her words registered.

He hadn't thought of that. Hell, what if he _had_ caught something?

"Duo?"

He shook his head and started combing, snapping a few of the wet strands by tugging a bit too hard. Her hands were on his shoulders, pushing him back into the chair. She took the comb away, washed her hands, and began running it slowly and carefully through the strands, starting at the bottom this time, to assist him in the arduous process of detangling his hair.

"Tell me about this thing you're dragging me to," he said, his voice cheerful.

She fell for it. She always had, Duo noted almost sadly, as they entered into light banter about networking in general, sycophants, and the difficulty in feigning interest in what most of the attendants had to say.

After she left, he called and made an appointment with Oliver Gibson.

~~~~~ 

"So, Duo, explain to me why you are here," Gibson said, leaning back in his chair casually.

"I have engaged in some rather high risk sexual practices," Duo said, meeting his physician's eyes without blinking.

"And you wish to be tested for sexually transmitted diseases."

"Yes."

"I will need to ask you a few questions, Duo, to assess risk and determine incubation time. We can decide then what you'd like to do."

"I expected as much." Duo was embarrassed, but he didn't plan on showing the doctor he felt that way.

"I assume you have not been monogamous."

"No. Not really." He realized that was evasive, and he clarified. "Two partners."

"And these two partners...what time frame have you been involved with them?"

"I was monogamous with the first until about three weeks ago. The second was a week ago."

The doctor made some notes.

"How active were you a week ago?"

Duo glanced at the pamphlet in his hand and looked at the list of various activities, ranging from no risk to high risk.

"Very."

"Which activities have you engaged in?" Gibson gestured at the pamphlet.

Duo didn't need to consult the list anymore. He again looked right at the doctor and rattled off the pertinent items.

"Receptive oral sex with protection. Insertive oral sex without. Insertive anal sex with protection. Receptive without."

There was a moment of silence in the examination room, and Gibson frowned slightly. He opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it. Duo's gaze was almost unnerving, and he cleared his throat before speaking again.

"What do you know about your recent partner's sexual history?"

"Receptive oral and anal sex with protection. Multiple partners, history unknown."

"Are you sure, Duo? Has your partner always used protection previously?"

Duo didn't hesitate. "Positive."

Gibson made another note on Duo's chart, then closed the folder.

"I am sure you don't need me to tell you that your recent sexual practices have included the one act that ranks highest for the risk of transmitting..." he trailed off as he saw Duo's eyes narrow. "There is a window, Duo, which you are currently in at the moment. To test now would be inconclusive. The earliest I could test would be after six weeks-"

"I will come back then."

"Hear me out, Duo. That might be enough time for some conditions to test positive, but a negative result at that point would not necessarily mean you haven't been exposed. I would need to repeat the tests again after three months."

"Then we will repeat them." Duo stood up. "I'll make an appointment with the secretary on my way out. For the laboratory tests in six weeks and in three months."

Gibson sighed. He was well aware that Duo had the money to pay for the blood work. He circled some numbers on the standard patient diagnosis sheet and handed it to Duo. "Give her this and she'll make sure you're scheduled for the full gamut of tests."

"Thank you," Duo said stiffly. Just before he left, he heard the doctor say, under his breath, "I just hope that you don't regret what happened."

I already do, Doc, he thought. I already do.

__

Liar, another part of his brain whispered.

He handed his paperwork to the appointment secretary and told the voice in his head to mind its own business.

tbc

~~~~~

Copious footnotes and apologies and explanations, sorta...

My thanks to all whom were kind enough to allow me to live after my perpetrating of an April Fool's hoax. Most of you took the joke in good humor.

If you missed the April Fool's chapter and really want to know what prompted the virtual thwaps, glares, confused looks, and death threats I received, you can read it here:  
http : // home.comcast.net / ~mookietwinkie / edulcorationaprilfool . htm

Would it make up for anything if I said that all the comments I received on Heero's little, ahem, daydream-slash-fantasy, from Chapter 53 (Thursday's Child) prompted me to commission a print, or would it make me sound egotistical instead? Either way, if you'd like to view the artwork done by Kracken, it can be found at  
http : // home . comcast . net / ~mookietwinkie / heeroduoshooting4 . jpg. 

Again, my thanks to Kracken for taking on this commission piece!

~~~~~

I referred to the television show _Dallas_ at the beginning of the chapter, when I was reiterating that the previous post was a joke. In case you have no idea who Bobby Ewing is or what _Dallas_ is besides a city in Texas, it was a prime time soap opera back in the late 70s (it ran 1978-1991) that starred Larry Hagman as the infamous J.R. Ewing. At least J.R. was infamous at the time...the whole "Who Shot J.R.?" was quite a topic of discussion and speculation during the second season hiatus (1980).

What has that to do with the April Fool's chapter? Bobby Ewing, one of the main characters was killed off, then the actor (Patrick Duffy) decided to come back to the show, so the writers turned the entire seventh season into a dream. You can read a bit about the pickle that created, if you really want to know, by going here: 

For info on the show itself, check on the International Movie Database:  
http : // us.imdb . com / title / tt0077000/   
- or - The Official Series Website here: http : // www . ultimatedallas . com/

~~~~~

Paris blue, Berlin blue, Chinese blue - all synonyms for a very well known color in the GW fandom, one that is named after a now defunct kingdom that at one time included regions of modern day Germany, Poland, and the Soviet Union.

I'm sure almost everyone is familiar with the four elements - air, water, fire, and earth - once believed to compose the physical universe. The twelve signs of the Zodiac are categorized into these four elements.

If you're curious about Heero's keyboard (and darn it all...some day it will be mine...maybe) you can see what it looks like here: http : // safetype . com/

Note on head lice: I am taking some minor liberties with the onset of symptoms for the parasitic _Pediculus humanus capitis_. In order for nits (eggs) to be visible, a female louse must first lay the eggs. It is highly unusual for symptoms such as itching to appear in such a short period of time, and itching in general is dependent on one's sensitivity, although some people are able to feel the lice moving before they realize that's the tickling sensation on their scalps. 

Can lice be transferred via airline pillows? Yes, but only within a specified window of time after an infested person uses the pillow. There is no cleaning of the pillows in between flights, although some airlines do toss them at the end of the day. It really is a very low risk, but it's possible. And in the world of fiction, that's all that's needed, regardless of how improbable it may be.

By the way, ever wonder what a "cootie" really is? It's a body louse, which is a different parasite than a head louse. Head lice are marvels of environmental adaptation, as their legs are evolved to the point where they grasp the hair shaft - they ain't goin' nowhere unless they want to. So most kids don't usually get "cooties" in the literal sense, but head lice are another story!


	59. Ivy

****

The Edulcoration of Duo Maxwell - 58/?

~~~~~

Warnings: AU, yaoi, coarse language, violence, angst, cliffhangers, red herrings, mention of various vices, random bits of useless knowledge, occasionally explicit sex, enough footnotes to choke an army of horses.

Spoilers: Nah

Disclaimer: I don't really need to be Captain Obvious here, do I? No ownership, no money being made, yadda yadda. Written for fun, not profit.

Pairings to date: 2x1x2, 3+4, 4x3, 5+M/5xM, 9+6, past 2xH, past 4x1

Archived at:   
http : // www . atsui . org  
http : // www.gundam-wing-diaries . 150m . com  
http: // www . theforsakenwk . com

__

Edulcorate (verb) - To free from harshness (as of attitude); to soften

~~~~~

****

Chapter 58 - Ivy

Quatre Winner sat on the steps of the back deck and propped his chin on his fist. The lawn in the back always looked more lush than that in the front, although he suspected it was his own preference for the backyard, as the front lawn provided the fescue with the direct sunlight it needed, where the estate itself cast parts of the backyard in shadow.

He could still remember how much time his father spent selecting the ideal blend of grass varieties to get the color and texture he desired. The Nevada climate didn't allow for much in the way of selection, as drought tolerance was a characteristic that was absolutely required.

"Long roots," a female voice said behind him.

He turned to see Iria's friend Sally standing out on the deck. He got to his feet automatically, causing a hint of amusement to light her features.

"I hope you are enjoying your stay with us," he said politely. He actually meant it. Any friend of Iria's was a friend of his, and Sally had been unfortunate witness to Quatre's coming out.

Almira hadn't believed him, had thought he was making it up just to spite her.

Iria had actually just entered the family room with Sally in tow when Quatre blurted it out. He'd had a little speech all prepared, including his conviction that it wasn't just a phase, that he'd know for years that he was different, and leading up to the news itself.

It had just taken one look at his eldest sister's bored expression, then a glance at his father who nodded slightly in encouragement, for him to decide to forget what he'd planned on saying and just go with the first thing that popped into his mind.

"I'm gay."

It was the same way he'd imparted the news to his father, whom he was glad had stayed in the room and not said a word. He didn't know what type of reaction he'd expected, but the fact that the Winner patriarch did not promptly denounce his son spoke volumes, although he supposed that was what threw Almira off. She'd expected that their father hadn't believed him, either.

Quatre smiled a bit as he remembered Almira's whirling around and demanding that their father talk some sense into him. All he'd said in response was that he'd met a friend of Quatre's, that he seemed a fine upstanding young man, and that he'd certainly hope his daughters would be gracious should Quatre ever decide to introduce him to the family.

It effectively shut her up. Almira hated feeling unbalanced, and she was still unsure as to whether or not her father was being deliberately obtuse, and if the word 'friend' carried more than one meaning.

Quatre wasn't sure himself.

Sally was leaning against the wide wooden rail and admiring the elaborate landscaping, especially the small topiaries along the edges.

His hand reached into his pocket and he felt the folded scrap of paper that he'd kept on his person since he left Los Angeles. The penciled digits were becoming faded with constant handling, but he'd committed the number to memory by now.

Quatre realized she'd just thanked him for his hospitality, but it was her earlier comment that had caught his attention.

"Excuse me?"

She glanced at him without moving her head. "I said thank you for making me feel welcome. Iria insisted."

He understood that Sally meant that Iria wouldn't allow her to pay for a hotel room, and not that his sister forced her to extend her gratitude. The Winner estate had numerous guestrooms, and Iria could be rather persistent. Sally hadn't had a chance.

He realized how ambiguous his question had been, and tried again.

"I'm sorry," he apologized. Before he could clarify, she nodded and repeated the first thing she'd said when she'd joined him.

"Long roots." She tilted her head toward the lawn. "They can run about six feet below the surface. That's what makes this blend so adaptable to an arid climate. The long roots enable it to absorb more water from the soil."

Quatre nodded, then joined her in looking out at the backyard.

"It's beautiful," she said. "The whole thing. The grass is lush, the topiaries are both sophisticated and quirky, and the choice of flowers provides just the right amount of color. It's quite a contrast to the view in the front."

"It is," he agreed. The front was out of one of the homes and gardening magazines. His father always wanted the exterior to look picture perfect, no matter what might be going on behind closed doors. Perception was often more important to people than the truth, he'd often said. If someone were going to judge you on appearances or rumors alone, then they'd better be damned good ones.

"It's more than the sum of its parts," she continued. "It's the way they complement each other that pulls it all together."

He blinked a few times, then realized he'd been moving his gaze from lawn to shrubs to flower beds and hadn't really looked at the picture they all made as a whole, something he usually prided himself on.

The little waterfall fountain made of small stones gave the impression of quenched thirst, and the shade from the house provided some protection from the sun for the flora planted nearby.

"I've spent many years," she said, "working in a laboratory, analyzing drugs down to their molecular level. Sometimes looking at the results in terms of strings of chemical elements makes me forget the reason I'm doing what I'm doing. The appeal of these substances - the very thing that makes them a desired commodity.

"Escape is an oft desired outcome. The end result is not always the freedom the user had hoped for. At best, they obtain only a temporary sense of euphoria. Instead of overcoming the harsh realities of life, so many people find that denial works best for them. Sadly the return trip becomes more painful each time, and they crave that same blissful feeling, so much so that they must find something that will sustain it longer, that will pull them deeper into the haze of clouded perceptions.

"Your sister has often said that she knew you were made of sterner stuff, Quatre," Sally continued. "She sees the end results of substance abuse in others. She's dealing with college students and burned out businessmen who thought they could reshape their lives into something tolerable using an outside agent of change." She paused, then added, "you two must be very close."

Quatre knew that Sally wasn't merely speculating with her last statement.

"We are."

She glanced over at him once more, noticing his hand had crept into his pocket again.

"Sometimes, Quatre, the answers won't be provided unless you ask the questions first."

She smiled at him and pushed herself away from the rail. "It's been a pleasure speaking with you. I look forward to doing so again."

He watched her walk back into the house. As soon as the door closed behind her, he pulled the paper out and unfolded it, staring at the number again.

With determination, he followed her into the house, then went straight to his room.

He picked up his phone and dialed the number with surprisingly steady hands.

~~~~~

"Anything else you wished to discuss today, Heero?" Jameson Hunter asked. Heero half expected him to stroke his chin as if he had a long pointy beard.

"No," Heero replied slowly. "But I need to bring it up anyway."

Hunter said nothing, merely waited for Heero to collect his thoughts.

"I engaged in highly promiscuous activities."

The psychologist didn't so much as raise an eyebrow. "Anything else?"

"Illegal prostitution," he clarified.

"Forgive my bluntness, Heero," Hunter apologized in advance, "but I must ask, if I hope to understand the motivations behind your actions."

Heero nodded.

"Buying or selling?"

Heero looked him right in the eye. "I was a whore."

The doctor nodded. "Interesting choice of words, Heero."

"Whore?"

"Was," Hunter corrected. "The things in your past, Heero, you're working those out just fine. It's the present that often becomes the sticking point. I'm glad you shared this with me," he continued. "I think you needed to say it out loud, to hear yourself say it. However, you strike me as the type for whom actions speak louder than words, and I've yet to see any sign that your current behavior is self destructive, nor do I feel you pose a risk to others.

"Our time is up for today, Heero. I will see you in two days."

~~~~~

Quatre was expecting Heero's voice mail. What he hadn't counted on was the pang to his heart upon hearing his ex-roommate's voice as it provided curt instructions to leave a message.

"Heero," he said quietly. "Please...call me when you get a chance..." he took a deep breath before rattling off his phone number, after which he slowly replaced the receiver.

He sat down on the edge of his bed and leaned forward, clasping his hands together and trying to get his riotous thoughts under control.

Why were things so difficult to sort? It was impossible to see things clearly when you were one of the involved participants. He wasn't even sure why he needed to talk to Heero, other than he felt safe, putting his thoughts into words, with Heero.

Heero had kissed him good-bye, and it had been the most gut wrenching kiss he'd ever shared with someone in his life.

Until Trowa had given him a tongue massage that had made him tingle from head to toe.

His hand reached for the phone again, but he pulled it back quickly. He could not, would not, absolutely refused, to call the other number he knew by heart.

By heart. He ran a hand through his hair and gave a short bark of laughter as he caught himself doing so. How many times had he seen Heero do the same?

He was developing a headache. He scooted back on the bed and swung his legs up, then let his head and shoulders drop back to the pillow.

Sometimes Heero made things look so damned simple. He was the most complicated person Quatre had ever met, or so he'd thought until this past week. Perhaps Heero only appeared complicated at first glance.

That wasn't to say Heero was shallow. There were few people Quatre had met that had as many layers to them as Heero. Of course many of them he'd seen just this week.

'French onion soup,' his mind supplied, and he snorted. Layers upon layers of complex human emotions and drives, ripped apart and jumbled so they were indistinguishable from those of others.

When Quatre had a problem, he worked through it by looking at each piece individually. However, Sally's comment earlier about the Big Picture was what he'd been missing. At one time he'd been proud of his ability to step back and see how things interconnected.

That was before his own emotions were so wrapped up in so many of the pieces that he was helpless to separate them.

This time, however, he'd start with each piece, and then let his mind wander over the whole thing. Maybe he'd missed something before.

Heero. 

What about Heero?

For starters, Heero and Duo Maxwell.

Before Quatre had made that particular connection, he'd noted Duo's loneliness at their first meeting. That had struck him most of all. Next to that, regret was edging it out. He'd been unable to tell how the two were intertwined, but he'd been just as incapable of refraining from blurting out some ambiguous bit of advice.

He'd been so taken with whatever was brewing beneath the calm exterior of Duo Maxwell, he'd felt the need to make an opening statement at the meeting. He'd announced the benefits of exploring avenues that hadn't yet been considered.

He'd meant it as advice for Duo. There was an expression, he mused. Something like, 'physician, heal thyself.'

The avenues that hadn't been previously considered.

Trowa.

He rolled onto his stomach. Thoughts about Trowa would have to wait.

Dorothy Catalonia. Dorothy was bound to discover what he'd been up to lately. The axe was waiting to fall. After all that had happened, after being taken back into the fold, would Dorothy insure that the blade descended? He had only himself to blame for how it would affect him, but what would it do to the rest of the family?

Family. Iria. His sister was working with Sally Po on a case, one that involved a drug investigation. 

Trowa had unwittingly been slipped GHB at one time. Trowa had adamantly refused to let Quatre drink from a glass that he hadn't personally given him. Quatre shook his head again. No. Not yet.

Where was he? Ah, yes, Iria and Sally Po.

Sally Po was an agent of the Drug Enforcement Administration.

As was Heero. Every damned road seemed to lead to Heero.

He'd spent a lot of time playing the 'If Only' game when it came to Heero. He loved Heero, supposed he always would. Could have been madly, deeply in love with Heero if his feelings had been reciprocated.

Love was, he supposed, like the fescue outside. It had deep roots, but eventually if there was nothing to irrigate it, even the deepest roots wouldn't be enough to sustain the grass. It would wither and die without water.

Heero was an amazing man, Quatre decided. He'd always thought so, but for different reasons. For young, worshipful, lust driven reasons. For the simple fact that Heero was older, just as cynical as he was, and full of hidden passions.

He'd fallen hard for Heero for admittedly shallow reasons, but had grown to love Heero for who he was.

Trowa had accepted Heero simply because Quatre had. Trowa had faith in Quatre's judgement. Trowa had grown fond of Heero over time, more testament that he looked past the image Heero fed to the rest of the world.

And Trowa wanted him. Had wanted him, sexually, for a long time. Had come over as soon as Heero called him, and had been calm as could be when faced with two guilty faces. He'd acted as if it the three of them were sitting at a table in the bar, turning to Quatre and asking how his meeting with his father had gone.

How the hell had Trowa known about that meeting?

When Heero had left for the airport, and it had just been the two of them, Trowa was quiet. Appraising.

He'd licked his lips once, and Quatre had recognized the signs. He seized that sense of the familiar, and had started touching Trowa, caressing him, pulling his shirt out of his waistband.

The feel of Trowa's skin retracting from his touch, not in revulsion, had egged Quatre on to explore further.

The sound of Trowa's breathing as Quatre had fastened his mouth over one of his nipples, the moans he elicited from Trowa's throat as his fingers unfastened his pants...all of these had continued to feed Quatre's ego. They made him feel in control, the way he'd needed to be with his johns.

It had fulfilled him more than any of his jobs had, though, because he'd wanted to hear those sounds. Wanted to touch and taste that flesh.

He'd been the one calling the shots at first. He'd been the one to lead Trowa into the bedroom, to strip him completely naked. Trowa's hands had seemed timid as he ran his hands over Quatre's arms.

When Trowa had bent forward and touched his forehead to Quatre's collarbone, the brush of hair tickled. Quatre had gone weak in the knees, a situation he'd quickly remedied by maneuvering them both to the bed.

He'd been the dominant party when he'd made love to Heero, but Trowa was a different story.

Heero had almost reluctantly given in to Quatre, but Trowa was eager for it. Was panting, back arched, eyes latching onto Quatre's.

Quatre had wanted to do it with Trowa facing him, but before he could position himself between his legs, Trowa turned on his hands and knees and said his name. One word that sounded like both a plea and a command.

Their voices were so different, Quatre mused. Heero's had been a little more monotone, but Trowa's carried a world of inflections.

"Quatre..."

It had been a siren calling, and Quatre was surprised when he realized just how damned horny he was. He'd jerked off a few times, but it had been a while since he'd had sex with someone else.

He'd unrolled the condom before brushing his fingers over Trowa's ass. Part of him had wanted to run his tongue up the space in between, but he'd shaken off that desire quickly. It had no place for what was happening between them.

As soon as he'd sheathed himself in Trowa, he'd stilled his body, allowing Trowa to adjust. Allowing himself to adjust. It was different from wrapping his hand around his dick. The pressure was different. The heat was different.

Trowa was different.

Then Quatre had stopped thinking, and started fucking, focusing solely on the physical sensations, the raw animal need that had been reawakened.

It had felt so damned good. He'd reached around and started stroking Trowa's length as he slammed into him. When Trowa's back bowed and his head was thrown back, when he moaned, all of it had spurned Quatre to the edge of orgasm.

When Heero's name spilled out of his mouth, he'd been horrified, then the next thing he knew Trowa had pulled off him and was out the door.

It had taken Quatre a moment to realize the noises he'd heard had come from the kitchen, and had been more than the sounds of the bed slamming against the wall.

He'd followed Trowa to the kitchen, and he couldn't have been more surprised to see Duo Maxwell there, his eyes fixed on that part of Trowa that Quatre had been roughly stroking moments before.

Things were incredibly awkward after that. Quatre could probably spend all day listing the reasons why that confrontation was mortifying, but the one that rang utmost in his mind was the utterance of Heero's name.

Trowa had been more than understanding.

Duo had been horrified.

Whom had he wronged more? Trowa, for shouting someone else's name as he came? Duo, for overhearing his lover's name shouted by someone else?

Or Heero, for being caught up in what seemed to be far more than a simple love triangle?

~~~~~

"I thought you and Hilde had broken up, Duo," Wufei said, a puzzled look on his face.

"We did."

"Haven't you been spending a lot of time together lately?"

"Ever hear of friends, Wufei?"

That comment was met with a disgusted look. "I'm aware of friendships, Duo. I just don't think you two spent this much time together when you..."

"When we WERE together?" Duo interjected. "You're probably right."

He went back to perusing the document in front of him. Wufei was still standing there.

"Anything else, Wufei?"

His partner shook his head. "No. Unless you're done with the info on McNeil's"

"Give me an hour and I'll be more than ready to let you have this bathroom reading material."

Wufei made a small sound of disgust before leaving Duo to his own devices. Once he'd turned the corner, Duo looked up and stared at the open door.

His partner was hiding something from him. Had been ever since they'd gotten back from California. He'd caught Wufei open his mouth as if to say something, on more than one occasion, before closing it. Duo almost expected to hear the jaw snap shut each time.

Had he been spending that much time with Hilde? He supposed he had. It seemed ironic that he did seem to have much more free time for her now that they were no longer involved.

What did that say about their relationship? Hilde had complained several times in the past that she spent more time talking to Sylvia than she had to Duo, but they'd managed to find time together every couple of days. The second application of medicated shampoo had gone much better than the first, as they'd recaptured the easy friendship they'd had before they'd slept together for the first time.

His first blood test was scheduled two weeks before Hilde's business social. It would be reassuring to know that at least some diseases had been ruled out. He wondered about the whole information sharing. At least he wouldn't need to tell Hilde if anything came back positive, as he'd been monogamous when they were involved.

He was proud of her. She'd never expected nor wanted to ride on his coattails, no more than Meiran had with Wufei. Why hadn't things worked out between them? Hilde was spunky, intelligent, attractive, physically fit, and they'd had great sex.

That bothered him. He'd enjoyed sex with Hilde. His libido was healthy, they'd had some great times, they'd even joked about adding 'benefits' to their friendship.

So why wasn't he the least bit serious when he brought it up during their banter? It wasn't just that he wanted to be sure he was disease-free. He just had no real desire to tread that path again.

He set down the prospectus on one of their earlier acquisitions. The company name hadn't changed after they'd purchased it. In fact, it was rare for them to rename any of the businesses they bought and sold. A waste of time, considering they often didn't hold onto these businesses for very long. It was all about the market price.

Yet Sanquhar was a different story entirely. Even its name - who had come up with it? It was one that had nothing to do with Peacecraft, Winner, or Maxwell-Chang, all companies bearing the names of their founders.

Speaking of Sanquhar, Wufei would be permanently relocated in Los Angeles, or one of the neighboring cities, by the end of the month. He realized he'd miss working with Wufei. Who was he kidding? He'd miss Wufei and Meiran.

Duo stood up and stretched. It was a good business strategy, however, having each of them located on opposite coasts. It was downright necessary with the startup of Sanquhar that someone be on-site.

Part of him wanted to be there, wanted to feel first hand what it was like to build a business again. They'd been working with established corporations for so long, he itched to be involved with a startup company again.

He did not, however, particularly care to run into Quatre Winner.

If he were honest with himself, he wasn't even sure how much of that was because he'd barged in on Quatre, causing both of them undue embarrassment.

Quatre was a damned good looking man, he admitted, but then, so was the 'partner' he'd been with that day.

He took a deep breath, replaying the scene in his mind, when the other man, Trowa, had him against the wall. He had to admit, the man had a damned fine physique, but what had been the most welcome sight of all was the knowledge that the man was a bit larger than Heero, and therefore it had not been Heero with Quatre's cock buried in his ass.

There was something between Quatre and Heero, that was for sure, but it wasn't physical. He wasn't sure if that made him feel better or worse.

All the awkwardness aside, he reluctantly admitted he'd found both Trowa and Quatre physically attractive, although admiring the scenery had been the furthest thing from his mind that day.

He needed to give the situation more thought. He picked up the paperwork on his desk. He'd drop it off on Wufei's desk so the man would stop hounding him for it. Then perhaps they could discuss Sanquhar a bit. He needed to take a more active role in that and stop acting missish about it. Quatre Winner was just a business partner. A man, like himself, like his partner.

Like Heero, perhaps.

He was looking forward to meeting up with Hilde later.

~~~~~

"Why the sudden interest in Scrabble, anyway, Duo? You usually prefer games like Risk or Stratego."

Duo shrugged, but Hilde didn't notice, busy as she was turning letter tiles upside down so they could each select one to determine who went first.

Hilde won the first move. As they started selecting their tiles for the game, she frowned.

"Duo? You only use seven tiles in Scrabble."

His hand hesitated slightly as he held the last two aloft, then he set them down again. "Do you want me to select seven new ones?"

She shook her head. "No, I'm sure I can beat you even if you cheat," she teased.

She laid down the word PINKY, with the word centered on the star, despite Duo's snort. "You call that a word?"

"I do. Pinky. Fourteen points," she said, jotting down her score before selecting five new tiles.

He eyed the board and then his own tiles. He shuffled some around. He could use the C, H, E, S, and T with Hilde's Y. That would put the T on the triple letter score square, giving seventeen points. He picked up the C, then hesitated. He rearranged the tiles and then grinned at Hilde.

With this word he'd get _two_ triple letter squares, and one of them would be the four point H.

He placed the S and the C above Hilde's Y, and then finished with T, H, and E.

"Scythe. Twenty-four points," he said proudly.

"It's still early in the game," she warned him, looking more than pleased as she laid a Q several spaces above the P of pinky, then triumphantly placed a U directly under it.

"Quip," she announced. "Seventeen points...the score is now thirty-one to twenty-four."

He slid a single tile beneath the P. "Quips. Sixteen points."

She growled. "That is so unfair," she complained. "You get the ten points for the Q and you didn't have to wait for the U tile, either."

"I could cry for you a little bit," he offered.

She beamed at him. "Why, thank you, Duo!" She laid down two letters next to the S in 'scythe.' "Sob."

"Five measly points and you think that's a major advance?"

"Let's see what you've got, Maxwell." She pulled two more tiles from the pile.

He put two O's above Hilde's B before laying his last letter.

"Boob. Double word score, too," he added. "Fifty-six to your thirty-six, Schbeiker."

"I am so tempted to pick out your wardrobe for that networking boondoggle," she muttered. She frowned at her letters, and Duo expected her to forfeit her turn by exchanging some of her tiles, but she finally placed an H to the left of the E in 'scythe.'

"He," she sighed. "Still, it's five points."

Duo decided to form 'hero' with his R and O tiles, but as soon as he'd laid them down, Hilde cleared her throat.

"Want me to challenge you on a new word, Duo, or are you slipping with your spelling these days?"

He glanced down and realized he'd inadvertently placed a second E next to 'he' before he'd finished the word.

HEERO.

"You're too good to me," he muttered, pulling out the extra E and moving the other two letters to the left.

"Would you say, then, that I'm your heeeeeero?"

Duo froze.

He was staring at the word HERO on the board, but picturing the way it had looked, before Hilde pronounced it with an exaggerated long E sound.

He realized he'd had sex with someone whose name he didn't even know how to spell. If he wanted to find Heero, how could he do so?

'You had sex with someone whose last name you don't even know,' he reminded himself. 'For all you know, Heero isn't even his real name.'

He shook his head. No. He knew that Heero hadn't lied about his name. He'd cried out that name in the throes of passion - the very thought that the name was nothing more than a lie was more than he could stomach.

"Duo?"

"Sorry," he mumbled. "Let's see what you've got. You're still behind." His smile convinced her that all was well.

Hilde was less than gracious sometime later when she won, using the O in HERO to spell out LOSER.

~~~~~

Heero could see why Sally had been so happy to hand over these particular reins when she left. Recorded statements taken by an agent that had been working with local officers. The slurred speech of the emergency room patient made it impossible to understand a thing that was said.

The digital version on the computer was no better than the tape Sally had worked with earlier, although he had the option of slowing it down, speeding it up, and trying to use the software to cut out the background noise. Audio files were not his forte on the computer, however.

He selected the file containing the follow-up interview, when the patient had been brought in for questioning at the station. He sighed. In his experience, everyone suddenly became a legal expert when brought in for questioning, insisting on their right to speak with a lawyer first. He wondered how much this kids parents knew.

He bit his lip slightly. He really should call his parents soon. He'd left a few messages on their answering machine over the past few months, careful to call when they were at work, but he was sure they'd appreciate a more interactive form of communication after all the clipped messages he'd left. He supposed, as parents, they'd always be worried about him, especially considering his job. Hell, they'd probably be happier to see him in person...

He started slightly when Noin put her hand on his shoulder.

"Yuy? Ready to call it a day?"

He nodded, pulling off the headset. When she suggested they stop for a beer and a bite to eat before heading their separate ways, he welcomed the distraction.

It was later that night, lying in bed and staring at the ceiling, when he realized the truth of what Hunter had said early in their sessions. It wasn't a relapse, but the pain was still sharp at times.

The idea of going to his parents' home, and seeing the Vargas home next door...he didn't know if he was ready for that. He'd rather be called to the carpet like a wayward child for approaching Hitomi wearing leather pants and a blond wig.

'What are you, Heero, seventeen?' he chided himself.

The appointments with Hunter often seemed useless to Heero, although he supposed it helped to have an unbiased listener. There was still that one sticking point that Hunter kept hinting at, that one bit of self-knowledge that Heero refused to share with him. Perhaps, given enough time, Hunter would be convinced that it was not something that would impact his job performance. Even the unexpected reminders of Kitty, although painful, didn't have the same ability to render him powerless over his actions.

He reached over and pulled the stuffed bear hidden between the pillow and the wall and hugged it to his chest, resting his chin between its ears. He rubbed the plush fabric with his chin, which was finally showing signs of stubble.

He released the bear and ran a hand over his stomach. As it slid up toward his chest, he winced as he encountered the short hairs there as well. He turned his head to the side and stared at the plush ursine face. He'd swear its embroidered mouth was smirking at him.

He sighed. He supposed that was one more appointment he'd need to make, if Noin's idle speculation earlier that evening was accurate.

"How'd you like to have the fur stripped off half of YOUR body, Gaia?" he grumbled, tossing the bear to the foot of the bed before flopping over onto his stomach and turning off the bedside lamp.

He just knew Noin was going to be smirking at him the entire time.

At least he didn't have to go to Buffalo this time.

~~~~~

Sol - for the love of Duo's safety - here it is! What can I say, the rug rat is reminding me where that term comes from these days.

The board games, both of which require strategy, and therefore both of which I suck at:

Risk:  
http : // www . hasbro . com / pl / page . viewproduct / product_id.9491 / dn / default . cfm  
Stratego:  
http : // www . hasbro . com / pl / page . viewproduct / product_id . 9518 / dn / default . cfm

Gaia - Mother Earth in Greek mythology. She was the original goddess to whom the Oracle at Delphi was dedicated. Mother of the one-hundred armed, fifty-headed giants known as Hecatonchires, as well as the Cyclopes and the Titans. Her daughter, Rhea, was mother of many of the Olympic gods and goddesses.

Rhea is the one who wrapped a stone in swaddling clothes to fool her husband, Cronos, into thinking it was Zeus, the last remaining child. Cronos swallowed each of his children whole, determined to thwart his destined fate and have his son overthrow him.

Rhea is sometimes credited with saving the heart of Dionysus (other times it is Athena who is responsible) after Hera, in a jealous rage over Zeus' transgression with the mother of Dionysus (then known as Zagreus), had the Titans tear Zagreus apart, eating all of him but his heart.

Zeus consumed the heart and "visited" Semele, thereby begetting yet another son. (Sometimes the story is that Semele herself ate the heart.) Thus, Dionysus was "born again." Other versions indicate Dionysus was "thrice-born."

Regardless of whom was responsible for salvaging his heart, it was Rhea who cured Dionysus of his madness, beset upon him by a persistent Hera. No wonder he has such a dual nature...born multiple times to multiple mothers under various circumstances is a hell of a way to make an entrance!


	60. False Proscenium

****

The Edulcoration of Duo Maxwell - 59/?

~~~~~

Warnings: AU, yaoi, coarse language, violence, angst, cliffhangers, red herrings, mention of various vices, random bits of useless knowledge, occasionally explicit sex, enough footnotes to choke an army of horses.

Spoilers: Nah

Disclaimer: I don't really need to be Captain Obvious here, do I? No ownership, no money being made, yadda yadda. Written for fun, not profit.

Pairings to date: 2x1x2, 3+4, 4x3, 5+M/5xM, 9+6, past 2xH, past 4x1

Archived at:   
http : // www . atsui . org  
http : // www . theforsaken . com  
http : // www . gundam-wing-diaries . 150m . com

__

Edulcorate (verb) - To free from harshness (as of attitude); to soften

~~~~~

****

Chapter 59 - False Proscenium

Immature love says: "I love you because I need you." Mature love says: "I need you because I love you." - _Erich Fromm_

~~~~~

When Heero woke the next morning, his eyes drifted to the cell phone on his bureau. He'd warned Quatre that he might not return his call right away, but he still felt guilty for not having the opportunity to contact his friend.

He decided that he'd do so at lunchtime. It would be nine in the morning, Quatre's time, if he called then.

Once he'd made his way to the bathroom, he filled a glass from the tap and drained it before running the water for his shower.

It was nice having warm water every day, after the temperamental plumbing in the apartment he'd shared with Quatre. He squirted conditioner into his left palm and briskly rubbed it through his hair, feeling the slickness under his fingers before he rinsed it out.

He wasn't sure what he should share with Hunter at the next session. Each time he carefully avoided mentioning Duo, because that was something infinitely personal, and nothing that he felt the good doctor needed to know about.

Perhaps he could acknowledge his fairly newfound sexual preference. If Hunter extrapolated anything from that bit of information, that was his prerogative.

He was clipping his cell phone to his belt loop when it rang. He answered it with a clipped, "Yuy."

"I have some information you might be interested in."

Heero blinked in surprise as he recognized the voice, and he sat down abruptly. "What do you have, Trowa?"

~~~~~

Trowa Barton was no man's fool. When Heero had slipped him that phone number, he'd known there was more to it than a gesture of friendship. It had taken him a long while to figure out that Heero's actions seemed familiar, at times, and it wasn't until he'd managed to watch him objectively that he'd figured it out.

That, and the concern Iria had expressed for Quatre's well being, had gotten those particular wheels spinning in his head.

Heero had been quietly vehement in his anti-drug stance. Trowa recognized the signs. Heero didn't accept drinks from customers, didn't disappear into the bathroom for extended periods of time. When someone came in who looked like they were under the influence of more than alcohol, his lips would purse ever so slightly in disapproval, and when Trowa would eject said persons from the premises, Heero's minute expression seemed both relieved and proud.

There was something about the way that both Quatre and Heero moved, their bodies purposefully fluid at times, that might have triggered the connection sooner, but Trowa wasn't naive enough to pretend that his ability to see things where those two were concerned wasn't colored by his own feelings.

It had hurt, knowing that Quatre was in constant oblivion when it came to him. He felt like he'd been brought to his knees when he realized Quatre was throwing the poker games simply because he knew Otto's misery was partly due to financial difficulties.

How could Quatre detect how others felt, and yet be blind to _his_ feelings?

On the other hand, he looked forward to seeing the blond man every morning. Their easygoing banter was something he looked forward to each day. Quatre was sharp, and his humor was surprisingly cutting at times.

He'd allowed Quatre to use the phone in the bar just to have the chance to keep him there long enough to, quite frankly, 'check him out.'

That alone had surprised him. For the longest time he'd considered himself lacking a sex drive altogether. Girls in high school did nothing for him, but he'd chalked that up to the fact that the only ones that approached him were not those he had anything in common with.

He'd met a girl in basic training, fooled around a bit, and decided manual stimulation was much better with a partner, and oral stimulation was not at all overrated.

What would have bothered him, had he spared the time to analyze it, was that he felt more drawn to recruitment posters and yearbook photos featuring soldiers in various positions. He'd been oddly intrigued by pictures of various uniformed young men...some brandishing their M16A1s, some of them straining during their PT tests, all looking intent and determined rather than coy and flirtatious.

Perhaps that was one of the things that drew him to Quatre initially. He'd appeared a fascinating mix of adrift and determined when he'd approached the bar and politely and firmly, without a hint of a quaver in his voice, asked to use the phone. His voice softened slightly when he spoke to the person on the other end, but he kept one eye on Trowa as if afraid to let down his guard.

Then he'd unconsciously licked his lips as he hung up the phone and asked if it would be too much trouble for a glass of water.

Trowa was used to a certain clientele in Los Angeles. The bar catered to the norm, as opposed to the flamboyant - which, he supposed, _was_ often the norm, at least in terms of LA.

Trowa couldn't help watching Quatre's throat bob with each swallow of water, and he'd done the first impulsive thing since that fateful night when he went out with his battalion for a couple of drinks.

He'd offered Quatre a meal, in exchange for helping him prep the bar for business.

Ever since then, Quatre had been a regular fixture. They'd discussed current events and local sports teams, shared anecdotes of their younger days, speculated about the occupations of regular bar patrons, and debated the latest political issues. A few times, they'd even torn open samples of new salted snacks that were sent to the bar, munching and discussing the merits and pitfalls of each.

He looked forward to Quatre's presence every day - almost lived for the times when they got to talk, just the two of them. The time always passed quickly, making chores such as cleaning and inventory seem less like work and more like...a date.

One day they'd been in the stockroom, rotating the supply of soda syrup to keep the oldest on top. The handle of one of the cardboard boxes had torn as Trowa lifted it, and Quatre's hand was beneath the box almost immediately to prevent the plastic bag inside from hanging out of the gaping hole in the side that resulted.

Trowa had breathed deeply, inhaling Quatre's scent. His minor delay in moving the box prompted Quatre to take over, and he slid the box into its proper place at the top of the stack.

As he did so, his shoulder brushed against Trowa, and then he turned and grinned at him. Trowa had blinked a few times, realizing Quatre was actually in his personal space, and surprised at how right it felt.

Trowa had almost leaned toward Quatre, to kiss him, that day, but as a rule, he'd never been one to give in to impulse the way he had that first day. He preferred to weigh things carefully. A kiss said a hell of a lot more than offering a meal did.

He also had to admit, the prostitution bothered him. He'd been unhappy to find that was the 'job' Quatre had landed, and had never understood the young man's motivation.

He supposed Quatre knew that Trowa would have managed to find some sort of job for him, but Quatre was both too proud to accept what he'd view as charity, and too stubborn to prove he could make it on his own.

And too young to know any better. The fact that Quatre looked fresh out of high school should have bothered Trowa a lot more than it did.

When Quatre had adopted Heero, Trowa had to admit a flare of jealousy almost immediately. The funny thing was, Heero's dark intimidating looks were the type that Trowa was used to, the type he'd always found attractive, before he'd met Quatre.

It only served to convince him the lure of Quatre was more than something physical. The innocent blond act may have been a draw for the johns, but it was the steely, strong-willed, and stubbornly loyal person behind those wide smiles that drew Trowa in.

Trowa had minded his own business, but it made him a little bit sick every time he knew that Quatre was servicing someone. It was more than simple jealousy. He couldn't bear the idea of someone with Quatre's intelligence and perceptiveness doing what he did, day after day, night after night.

It had taken him a while to start wondering about Heero. He'd known, from Quatre's behavior once Heero started performing sexual favors for money, that somehow he'd had a hand in Heero's new career. The guilt was permanently etched on Quatre's face whenever Heero left the bar with someone, or if Heero hadn't shown up at all because he was otherwise occupied.

By unspoken agreement, the three of them carefully avoided mentioning what two-thirds of them did to pay their rent.

Trowa wasn't sure how much he'd started watching Heero because of Quatre, and how much because Heero was fascinating in his own right.

It had taken him a while to realize that Heero had experience in infiltration. If not for the fact that Heero's presence hadn't led to Quatre's arrest, Trowa might have suspected an undercover prostitution sting.

The more he watched Heero, the more he recognized much of himself in the man. Heero was in hiding, but it was obvious it wasn't from the law. Heero also seemed protective of Quatre, which both reassured Trowa and made him uneasy.

Jealousy was a foreign concept to Trowa, but he was man enough to admit that's what he felt. It had hurt when he'd realized Quatre and Heero had been intimate. It ate at him in a way that Quatre's job never had.

He should have been happy for them, should have been glad that they'd found some amount of pleasure and comfort in each other, but he wasn't. It also seemed to be not enough for either of them.

Trowa didn't interfere. It wasn't his style, and even if it were, he was far too biased to be objective. He cared too much for both of them to make things worse than they already were. They both needed to find their own way.

When Heero had called and blurted out "I'm sorry" on the phone that day, he had been halfway out the door before he'd realized what the words had done to him.

He'd reacted, and at first he'd assumed he was slotting himself into the role of jealous boyfriend, which seemed contrary to his entire personality.

It was the faint trace of a plea in Heero's voice, the request for intervention, that had goaded him into action. He replayed Heero's actions and words from earlier that day in his mind until he'd arrived at their apartment.

When he'd walked into the kitchen, he'd been struck by the realization that their roles seemed almost reversed. If Heero had blond hair and larger eyes, and if Quatre's eyebrows were thicker and his hair darker, it would have been less of a shock to see Quatre's look of wide-eyed shock and guilt on Heero's countenance, and Quatre looking dark and brooding.

He'd called on a bit of info that Iria Winner had shared, and asked about the man whom he'd spoken with at the bar, Quatre's father.

It had worked. Whatever might have happened between Quatre and Heero, it was clear that it was over. Heero had insisted on taking a cab to the airport, the subtle suggestion that Trowa should stay and talk to Quatre blindingly obvious.

He supposed Heero had other things in mind, rather than what had actually happened once it was just the two of them. Hell, he'd been surprised as hell when Quatre started touching him. He'd wanted to knock Quatre's hands away and tell him that he didn't want to be used that way.

But more than that, he'd wanted to feel Quatre's body against him, to know that Quatre found HIM attractive.

He already knew that what he felt was more than just physical attraction. Perhaps it was the other way around for Quatre, and he needed to see that Trowa could be more than just a friend, could acknowledge that there was chemistry between them.

Then Quatre had latched into a nipple and all the arguments in the world melted into one voice uttering a single word. Yes.

It had been more than he'd dreamed it would be. Quatre was good at what he did for a living, but he was doing this with Trowa because he wanted to, not because he was getting paid to. Trowa wasn't naive enough to fool himself into thinking that Quatre wasn't using him as an escape of sorts. Had he been, he might have been a bit devastated by the shouting of Heero's name.

Trowa had snapped into action when he'd heard the door being forced open and had reacted immediately.

He'd been less than happy that he'd heard Heero's name, but he was downright pissed that someone had the nerve to not only break into the apartment, but to pick a time that couldn't be more inconvenient.

He'd finally managed to get Quatre to admit to himself there was an attraction between them, and then someone had to burst into the kitchen like someone in an Old Western with guns blazing.

Quatre apparently knew the intruder, and Trowa couldn't help the flare of jealousy that sparked anew as he released the man and stalked to the bedroom. Let the man get an eyeful of Quatre in all his naked glory. He wouldn't be the first.

He'd overheard Quatre mention Heero's name in an apologetic tone, and had wanted to laugh at the irony of it all. It seemed Heero had a knack for touching people's lives. Did he even realize how much of an impact he had on others?

He'd picked up his pants and as he did so, he felt the crinkle of paper in the back pocket. The one that Heero had slipped in there earlier, before Quatre had returned.

If Heero wasn't working undercover, then what exactly was his secret?

He'd pulled on his pants and fastened them, then picked up the other articles of clothing that had been strewn haphazardly about the room.

He'd needed to know just how much Quatre still felt for Heero. Perhaps the timing for them was wrong. Trowa would not throw away the relationship he had with Quatre, would not trade it for one built on a false ideal. There was definite chemistry between them, and if Quatre hadn't been so persistent, and Heero hadn't left for the airport, perhaps he'd have been able to stick to his guns, to explore the possibility of there being more between them than a quick fuck.

Sometimes, however, things in life didn't line up in neat order. Risks were necessary for any successful operation. The question was, was the price of failure worth it?

When he'd seen that damned pencil in Quatre's fingers, the answer, for him, was a resounding yes. For once in his life, he gave into impulse wholeheartedly, with no reservations and no safety net.

Kissing Quatre had taken him by surprise. First kisses were supposed to be awkward, with noses bumping and excessive saliva being swapped. Perhaps the latter was entirely true, but if so, he hadn't noticed.

What he _had_ noticed was Quatre's reaction. Trowa was stunned at how hot that kiss was. He'd thought it just idle bragging, how steamy a simple kiss could be, but he could feel that one through his entire body. He'd known that he was in the position of control at that moment. He'd liked it, liked knowing that Quatre wasn't the only one with the ability to make someone weak in the knees.

He'd given Quatre something to think about, that was for sure, and when the kiss ended, the sound of his own name, throaty and full of desire, had just about made up for what had happened earlier in the bedroom.

The next time they made love, he decided, he would make sure he had his legs wrapped around Quatre, would insist that Quatre kept his eyes open if that's what it took for him to remember who his dick was buried in.

The next time they were physically intimate, Quatre had damn well better be willing to accept that Trowa wanted more than just sex.

He had a lot of things he wanted to discuss with Quatre. The only person who could put him in touch with Quatre was Heero.

Trowa was not the type of man to wait for things to happen once he'd made up his mind, but he was also not the type to put a friend in the middle of things.

Catherine, bless her heart, had given him a reason to call Heero, with her speculation about something that was going on in the narcotics division over breakfast one day. She'd been rather gung-ho to get transferred to that particular department lately. Trowa knew it was her big sister role coming into play. She couldn't do anything for Trowa now, but she could do whatever possible to tackle the source of the problem in an effort to help others.

Cathy could share very little, ethically and legally speaking, so Trowa suspected she knew more than she'd let on. Perhaps he could do something to help both of them. So he asked if she'd mind if he made a long distance phone call.

Hearing Heero's voice filled Trowa with hope, and when Heero asked him for more information, he'd briefly explained that it might be nothing, that it was certainly out of Heero's jurisdiction, but he'd consider it a personal favor if Heero would listen to the ideas someone had.

He'd then handed the phone to Catherine and walked out of the room.

At one time, such an action would have been inconceivable to Trowa. In fact, he knew he was overstepping many boundaries, and it was up to Catherine and Heero to determine where the lines were blurred and where they needed to remain intact.

He hated encouraging Catherine to go over someone's head, but he also knew that she was new to the LAPD, and rookies didn't always get the respect they deserved.

The fact that her past experience was with Kern County, which had gained a bit of a reputation after a gag decal had been placed on the sheriff's vehicle, didn't help, either. The collection of mugs that she'd gladly surrendered to Trowa, plastered with the 'new Kern County Sheriff's Department motto,' were proof that she'd have a bit of an uphill battle. Although most of her new colleagues recognized the fiasco as the joke it was, there were bound to be those who thought it spoke volumes about the incompetence of anyone associated with the KCSD.

Chances were good that there would be little Catherine could officially impart to Heero without violating written and unwritten rules about information sharing.

On the other hand, there were always hypothetical situations, in a casual, friend-to-friend, or friend-to-friend-of-a-friend, chat. Hypothetical situations were often a damned effective method of getting the same result without stepping on anyone's toes.

~~~~~

Heero was impressed with the amount of information Catherine managed to convey under the pretext of not saying a word. Fortunately he'd recently been in California himself, and had already suspected something brewing there, something the filled in some of the blanks.

The question was, were the incidences of drug use in New York City related to those in Los Angeles? On the heels of that, where the hell were the drugs being produced?

He'd told Noin about his speculations regarding a potentially elaborate ruse surrounding a new street drug, one that could conceivably be touted by a dealer as Prozac-without-a-prescription - just the ticket for many a college student.

He had too little information. He didn't know if Romefeller was involved, and if so, to what extent. Were Dorothy Catalonia's warnings to Relena meant to be taken as an proud admission of guilt? He doubted that very much, but if anyone would know for sure, it would be Quatre.

He'd meant to call Quatre later. It looked as though more than one reason to, now.

Another piece of the puzzle that was missing was how far Dermail was willing to go in order to turn Romefeller into a leading corporation. Would he risk it all for money, or was he smart enough to keep his nose clean, to avoid dragging down his business?

Dermail had already had the rug pulled from under him twice, something that may have made him rethink his business ethics. A few key people to bring in for questioning would be those whom were responsible for his downfall.

As Noin had pointed out over dinner, those individuals wereTreize Khushrenada, Wufei Chang, and Duo Maxwell.

Catherine's casual conversation did no more than suggest that the answer to his first question was a resounding yes. The timing was too precise for it to be a coincidence. Iria and Sally had already compared notes on mysterious emergency room patient symptoms, supporting Heero's conclusion.

The dialogue with Catherine took little time, despite everything being couched in idle chitchat. A pro and a con about speculation was that it didn't have to entail any details or hard facts. Hunches were often the best starting point, and he'd been slowly gaining confidence in his own.

"Would you like me to put Trowa back on?" she asked.

"Please."

When Trowa greeted him the second time, he found himself indulging in a bit more speculation, that which had nothing to do with the intricate web of connections he seemed ensnared in.

"Good to see you didn't lose my number," he replied.

"I'd never have pegged you for Cupid, Heero."

"Tell that to my partner when she's busy questioning her ex-boyfriend's former best friend."

Trowa chuckled. "Before I met you, Heero, I'd never have believed Tinkerbell really existed."

Heero's subdued laughter joined the other man's for a moment, then he sobered. "I need to call him, Trowa."

"I know."

A pause followed, then "I'm sorry."

"If you think I'm dropping everything and running over there this time, you're sadly mistaken."

Heero was relieved that Trowa's voice still sounded amused. He had no idea how much time had passed before Trowa spoke again.

"Just so you know, Heero, 'sorry' implies regret. Do you have any regrets?"

Heero blinked several times at the question. There were so many things he'd done over the past few months that he wished he'd done differently.

He could think of a few different implications of Trowa's question. Did he have any regrets?

Did he?

~~~~~

__

//Love is the ideal of all of us; intimacy and mutually elevating equality, complete trust and maximum esteem, both for ourselves and others...Who can say "I don't want to be loved" or "I can't love" without the most profound regrets?"//

Quatre took a deep breath after reading the introductory paragraph of the book Heero had given him, a quote from Robert Solomon's _The Passions._

Tempted, he said the words aloud.

"I don't want to be loved."

He shook his head. He was being ridiculous. They were just words, and no one was there to hear him say them. He didn't need to say them aloud to make them true.

He flipped a few pages.

__

//Human beings are the only animals capable of self-deception and therefore of self-betrayal.//

He dropped the book abruptly when the phone rang. His heart thudded in his ears a moment as he stared at it, then he felt a rush of warmth, realizing suddenly who was calling.

"Heero..." he breathed into the mouthpiece as soon as he picked up the receiver.

"This is becoming a habit, Quatre."

Quatre's breath caught in his throat. "Trowa..."

tbc

~~~~~

NOTE: I appreciate that so many of you are eager to see an update, and it's flattering to hear that I can't update fast enough.

The lighthearted teasing and mild threats with sporks are not an issue - in fact, they're funny as hell. Being told "you took long enough to update" is borderline rude, and being accused of abandoning the fic is downright insulting.

I should not have to explain my reasons for the change in my update schedule, but here it is anyway. Long story short - when I started writing this story, my daughter spent most of the day eating and sleeping. She's now awake a good portion of the day, has moved to solid foods, and just recently learned to crawl.

Now for the real footnotes!

~~~~~

Ouch, Sol, look what you've done now! Duo's gone into hiding this chapter!

Proscenium - the stage of an ancient Greek or Roman theater; the part of a modern stage in front of the curtain

False proscenium - a frame within the fixed proscenium used to make smaller the exposed area of the inner stage

The armed forces do have yearbooks, and they are specific for each platoon. PT tests are Physical Training tests. The M16A1 (being replaced or has been replaced by the M16A2) is an infantry rifle used in both the US Army and the Marines Corps.

In case you forgot the infamous Kern County Sheriff's Department "motto" briefly alluded to in chapter 50, ("We'll kick your ass" - later modified to include "And take your donuts, too, although I suspect the latter was a digital enhancement) you can view it here:  
http : // home . comcast.net / ~mookietwinkie / kern.jpg


	61. Grit

****

The Edulcoration of Duo Maxwell - 60/?

~~~~~

Warnings: AU, yaoi, coarse language, violence, angst, cliffhangers, red herrings, mention of various vices, random bits of useless knowledge, occasionally explicit sex, enough footnotes to choke an army of horses.

Spoilers: Nah

Disclaimer: I don't really need to be Captain Obvious here, do I? No ownership, no money being made, yadda yadda. Written for fun, not profit.

Pairings to date: 2x1x2, 3+4, 4x3, 5+M/5xM, 9+6, past 2xH, past 4x1

Archived at:   
http : // www . atsui . org  
http : // sweetlysour . net  
http : // www . theforsakenwk . com  
http : // www . gundam-wing-diaries . 150m . com

__

Edulcorate (verb) - To free from harshness (as of attitude); to soften

~~~~~

****

Chapter 60 - Grit

"Trowa..."

Quatre's voice was deep and throaty. Trowa decided he liked that very much. He'd like to hear Quatre say his name that way more often.

He knew that Quatre was on unfamiliar ground, as much as he himself was. The difference was, he was sure of what he felt, whereas Quatre seemed to be floundering.

But as Trowa had told Quatre, he'd been trained to be 'swift, silent, and deadly.' He'd been groomed to infiltrate enemy lines undetected. There was a tired cliche - a trite, oft-repeated maxim - that Trowa fully intended to make his own personal motto if necessary.

It really _wasn't_ that much different from war, after all.

"I spoke to Heero earlier," he said casually. "I hope you don't mind that I asked him for your phone number."

"No," Quatre reassured him. "Of course not."

"I miss you, Quatre. It's not the same alphabetizing the snacks every morning."

That won a small laugh, as he'd hoped. Keeping the conversation restricted to the same topics they discussed each day, from the moment Quatre showed up at the bar, was a good segue to more important things.

Quatre was highly relieved to hear that Otto had found a job and was spending less time at the bar.

"Speaking of which," Trowa said. "I'm thinking of renaming the bar." It was a game they'd been playing long before the weekly contests for suggested names began.

Quatre made a noise that indicated what he thought of that idea. "I still think you should have gone with Heavyarms."

Trowa wondered if Quatre had recognized, or perhaps intended, the euphemism that weapons of mass destruction presented when he'd suggested the name in the first place. "Well, your idea did get me to thinking," he said.

"A dangerous pastime indeed," Quatre teased. "What idea do you plan on pitching to the powers that be?" The 'powers' being the owner who had been just as lackadaisical about Trowa's changing his hours as he was about running the place to begin with. Trowa had decided that his mornings were better spent having breakfast with his sister rather than prepping the bar for business at the crack of dawn. He wasn't neglecting any of his duties; he'd merely reprioritized them. The extra hours at the bar now took place after closing each night.

"Do you always peek at the last page of the book?" Trowa chided. "What about suspense, about all the steps leading up to the unveiling?"

Quatre laughed again. "I hope you appreciate how much I indulge you."

"I do," Trowa said, dropping his voice an octave. Quatre shivered at the sound, fully aware of the ambiguity of his own statement.

"Heavyarms implies a stash of weapons, an arsenal. An attack," he continued. "Something aggressive and dangerous."

Quatre nodded in agreement, then realized Trowa couldn't see him. "Mmm hmmm," he prompted, feeling his body temperature rise slightly.

"I thought perhaps something that suggested a haven would be fitting."

The bar had always been more than that to Quatre.

"Something cultured," Trowa went on. "Something suggestive of a fortress."

Quatre stood up as a tingling sensation began at the back of his neck. He wasn't at all surprised when Trowa's next words were "Sean Caer."

~~~~~

Noin walked into the office and dropped into her chair looking utterly weary.

"Nice of you to join us," Heero commented, swiveling away from his computer to face her.

She made a rude gesture before leaning back and putting her feet on the edge of the wastebasket. "You're a fine one to talk, Yuy. Can I try that 'working from home' excuse next time _I_ oversleep?"

He pointed his finger at her and cocked his thumb as if he had a gun.

"Please!" she begged. "Put me out of my misery!"

He folded his arms across his chest. "How did it go with Une?"

"She agrees with me," Noin sighed.

"Honey versus vinegar," Heero mused. She nodded in reply.

"It's not quite undercover work," she said. "And it could be a potential conflict of interests. She has to fly the idea past the New York and the LA offices to see what they think. There are agents in those locations that could do the interrogation.

"On the other hand, I know one personally, and have met another one in passing. The question is whether I'll get more out of Treize going as an acquaintance who happens to be an agent, or if an agent with no shared history would be the better choice."

"Khushrenada strikes me as the type who would be loyal to those he considers his friends," Heero mused.

She put her feet down and leaned forward in her chair. "Who else do you know, Heero? I know you've met Zechs, and Relena. You seem tied up in this mess just as much as I am."

"I've met Quatre Winner and Dorothy Catalonia," he reminded her.

She tapped a finger on her chin thoughtfully. "Quatre Winner. Between the two of you, it's like you are both at the center of the same web. What was it that Sally was inferring that day?"

"Will you be speaking to Relena and Zechs while you're out there?" he asked, treating her last question as rhetorical.

"I'm not sure how much time I'll have, or if anything Treize tells me will suggest that's a good idea."

"Personally or professionally?"

"Either," she replied. "If Une gets the green light for my being the one to question Treize about Dermail, that still leaves Chang and Maxwell."

"Hmmm."

"I might be able to schedule my trip to California during one of Chang's visits. He's been back and forth several times for meetings with both Quatre and Zechs."

"Une wants you to interview Chang?"

She crossed her arms, looking like a mirror image of Heero at that moment.

"Only because I'm so very charming. It's more a matter of avoiding the too many cooks issue, if I am the one questioning Treize."

He took a deep breath. "And Maxwell?"

"Never met him, but it stands to reason, don't you think? Although he could just as easily be interviewed by someone in New York instead."

Heero nodded, and Noin continued musing aloud.

"Although...he and Chang are sure to compare notes. So would it be better to have someone else interview Maxwell? Perhaps his opinions could be garnered before he's had a chance to talk to Chang, or vice versa."

"You sound as if they're suspects themselves."

"Quit playing devil's advocate, Yuy. You know just as well as I do that it's easy to have your own opinion colored subconsciously...why are you shaking your head?"

"Am I?"

"I'm not sure how this is going to play out. No point in our speculating about who is interviewing whom until Une lets me know one way or another. As it is, if I speak to Relena, I know whose opinions she's going to spout at me." She leveled a glare at Heero, who shook his head a second time.

"Quit doing that, Yuy. You have something to say, spit it out."

"I think you're underestimating Relena, that's all."

She snorted. "If you think Relena isn't going to spout at least some of your own conclusions to me..."

He cut her off. "That's not what you're looking for, though, Noin. The issue is, what does she think of Catalonia as a person, not what does she think of the double-speak and what it means."

"Speaking of that," she said. "What did Quatre have to say when you called him?"

When Heero didn't answer, she rolled her chair closer to him.

"Yuy? You DID call him, didn't you?"

"Not yet."

"For the love of...damn it, why the hell not! What was with that song and dance about needing to ask for his opinion, if not to ASK IT?"

"Your anxiety over seeing Zechs again is showing."

She narrowed her eyes at him, then pushed her chair away from him and back to her own computer.

"You're right." She sighed. "I'm a walking basket case."

"No," he disagreed. "You're one of the most level-headed people I know."

"You do realize we are close to discussing personal business on the DEA's dime at this rate, don't you?"

"Sometimes it's necessary," Heero replied calmly. "It does neither of us any good if emotion is clouding the ability to make logical inferences."

She placed one hand behind her neck, a gesture she hadn't used since she cut off all her hair. He couldn't resist commenting on it.

"Why did you cut your hair?"

She realized that she was reaching for the tresses that had once flowed down her back, and laughed.

"Old habits die hard. I thought it took only twenty-one days to break a bad habit," she said. "I told you back then, Yuy. It got in the way."

"Why didn't you pin it up, or braid it?"

"You mean like Sally does?"

He paused for a moment, then nodded.

"Wasn't worth the extra time in the mornings. It was bad enough detangling the rat's nest every morning after a shower. Besides, Sally isn't a field agent. You know it's more practical to have it this length. Also much easier to work with should I get an undercover assignment."

Her eyes swept over Heero's hair, and she smirked slightly. He knew exactly what she was thinking, and he exhaled heavily.

"It's not funny, Noin."

"In this case, your sense of humor is just not in tune with mine."

He scowled at her, and she laughed. "If you could just lessen the intensity one a tiny bit, that look would be perfect for your assignment."

"There's no assignment. You're speculating again."

"And I taught you everything you know about that particular art, you know. We can make our usual bet on this one."

"You always pick Starbucks. That's hardly fair."

"Office coffee is hardly a prize. When I win a wager, I want it to be worth something. And I don't always pick Starbucks. Sometimes it's a Peroni or two."

"Your alcohol tolerance is frightening, Noin."

"How the hell did we ever start playing that game, anyway, Yuy?"

"Buffalo. Because Velasquez is metapneustic. And micrencephalic."

"You might as well be speaking in Japanese, Yuy, because I have no idea what that means, although I'm sure I agree with you. That guy had an ego that wouldn't fit in the Meadowlands."

"You didn't work with him as long as I did," Heero retorted. "That's putting it mildly."

She laughed. "He was surprised to see you hold your liquor remarkably well, Baby Face."

"I'm sure Gillis surprised a few folks in his time," Heero grumbled.

"I wish I shared your passion for that pulp fiction and gun moll garbage," she said with a hint of a grin. "So what do those words mean?"

"Which words?"

"If Relena was ever like this to Zechs, no wonder he's a right bastard. You sure you were the older sibling?"

The gentle reminder of Kitty brought a small rush of warmth. "Micrencephalic. Possessing an abnormally small brain," he paused, waiting for Noin's nod to continue. "Metapneustic. Possessing spiracles that are-"

Noin held up one hand. "Spare me. Layman's terms, Yuy."

The corners of his lips quirked upwards as he complied. "Breathing apparatus located in the poster region of the body, as is common with insects."

She mulled that over for a moment, then started laughing.

"In other words, Velasquez has his head permanently stuck up his ass." She leaned back in her chair again and laced her fingers behind her head. "You never cease to amaze me, Yuy. I would hate to play against you in a game like Boggle or Scrabble."

Heero didn't respond, and Noin frowned slightly. "Yuy?"

"I wish you'd stop bringing up Buffalo," he said gruffly.

"You have to admit," she said, not completely convinced she'd imagined the flash of...something...that had crossed his face. "We did drink him under the table."

Heero made a sound of disgust. "He assumed too much."

"I can't believe we played drinking games with those guys. Although I confess, I wish I'd been there when they sent you into the convenience store near Buff State."

"U.B.," he corrected.

"I don't know," she said, letting her eyes travel over Heero. "I think Buff State is much more fitting, considering the circumstances. I will win that cup of coffee."

"I hate you."

"Keep it up, Yuy, and I'll suggest a pin-up calendar idea to The Bobbsey Twins out front."

"You hate them, Noin."

"And you hate me. Gossipy twits or no, I think it would be worth speaking to them, just to have them envisioning Heero Yuy as the July model."

"July?"

She leered at him. "Thirty-one days of a smooth-skinned Yuy in a Speedo."

"Have I mentioned how much I hate you?"

Her response was cut off by the ringing of her phone. She stood up to answer it. When she hung up and turned to face him, he didn't need her to verbally confirm what her expression told him.

"You're going to California," he stated.

~~~~~

"The other thought I had," Trowa continued. "Was to come up with a name that was a bit metaphoric. Something like sandstone."

"Sandstone?"

"Not for the name itself. I'm talking about similes. Something with many layers - like a sedimentary rock."

Quatre thought about what Trowa was saying, and what deeper meanings lay behind his words.

Sedimentary rocks. He rolled that over in his mind. Sometimes it took millions of years for them to form, as eroded bits of earth eventually settled at the bottom of an ocean or lake or riverbed. Over time, layer after layer was deposited on top of the original sediment.

Something hard and unyielding was formed in the end, despite the fact that the base components were no more than broken bits of something else.

This was why he had always enjoyed conversations with Trowa. His friend had no formal education beyond his military training, but he seemed to have picked up random bits of knowledge from a variety of sources.

"Trowa."

"Yes?"

"That night at the bar..." Quatre swallowed. "Not THAT night, not the last night," he clarified. "That other night, with Johnson."

"Ah," Trowa acknowledged. "I apologize."

"You...wait, what?"

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel that I doubted your ability to handle him on your own."

That wasn't exactly what Quatre had intended to bring up when he'd mentioned Johnson, but he was intrigued by Trowa's tone. There was a hint of chagrin, but not so much as a trace of regret, although he'd learned long ago that Trowa's emotions baffled him in ways no one else's had.

"But you didn't lay a hand on Johnson," he said thoughtfully, replaying the events of the night in his mind.

"No," Trowa agreed.

"You attacked Wufei Chang."

"Who?"

"I'll tell you later how I know that. Right now I'm more interested in why you went after him."

"He was going to rescue you."

Quatre blinked. He could not have heard that correctly. "I'm sorry?"

"He was going to rescue you," Trowa repeated, sounding almost miffed. "He was watching you and Johnson, and he got this look in his eyes."

Quatre doubted very much even sharp-eyed Trowa could have seen Wufei's eyes from where he had been behind the bar, but he didn't dare point that out. He remained silent, waiting for Trowa to continue.

"He didn't think you could extricate yourself from the situation." Now Trowa sounded insulted. "He was planning on intervening."

"So you attacked him?" Quatre blurted out.

"It was not his place to interfere," Trowa snapped.

Quatre smiled. "Not his place," he mused. "Not HIS place."

"No."

Quatre's grin grew wider. "You overreacted," he teased, pleased to be the one who was on steady footing for a change. He couldn't quite imagine Trowa squirming on the other end of the line, but it was as close as he supposed Trowa had ever been to such a state.

"Love will do that to you," Trowa admitted.

Quatre sat down abruptly.

"I have to go, Quatre. I'm at Catherine's right now. Look me up next time you're in town meeting with this Wufei Chang. Or with Milliardo Peacecraft. If you can spare the time, perhaps we can have lunch before you flee the city again."

With that, the connection was terminated.

Quatre pulled the receiver from his ear and stared at it dumbly until it started blaring, alerting him that the phone was off the hook. He slowly replaced it, and then turned and picked up the book he'd dropped when he'd answered the call earlier.

He ran a thumb over the title of the book when the phone rang again.

"Hello?"

"Quatre," Heero's voice rumbled at the other end.

"Mmm hmmm."

"Do you have a few minutes?"

"Mmm hmmm."

In the office he shared with Noin, Heero glanced up at his partner and shrugged.

"I'd like to ask you a few questions about Dorothy Catalonia," he said.

"Mmm hmm."

"Quatre? Is everything alright?"

"Yes. I'm sorry, Heero. Dorothy. She's rather vicious, as I told you."

"I remember," Heero said. Before he could prod for further information, Quatre spoke again.

"Do you remember that proverb I mentioned that day we had breakfast at the Tiara, Heero?"

Heero's brows furrowed, but he had a feeling it was best to humor his former roommate. "Something about a wise man associating with the vicious and how that causes him to become an idiot."

"And?"

Heero wanted to throttle Quatre at this point. "And...and...a dog that travels with good men will become a rational being."

"I think I'd like to be the dog, Heero."

If ever there were a time that Quatre seemed less like a rational being, Heero couldn't think of one.

"Heero."

The drug enforcement agent bit down on his lip to avoid snapping out the "what?" that was on the tip of his tongue. He took a deep breath and instead asked, quietly and calmly, "yes?"

"I love you."

Heero was struck by the words, spoken aloud. He'd known it. Trowa had known it. It was the other reason he needed to speak to Quatre. He flicked his eyes toward Noin again. She recognized the request and left him alone in the office.

"I love you, too," he said as soon as the door shut behind her.

"I know you do, Heero. But I don't think you're listening to me. I LOVE you."

Heero frowned. Quatre was being oblique with his references, something he rarely did with his friends, unless he was trying to make a point.

Bingo.

"I love you," Quatre repeated for the third time. "And you love me, as well. And you loved Kitty."

Heero nodded, almost expecting that Quatre somehow knew he was silently agreeing.

"What do you need to know about Dorothy?" Quatre asked, his voice suddenly businesslike.

Heero shook himself free of the thoughts that Quatre had thrown at him like a bucket of cold water, and he calmly started to explain exactly what he needed to know.

~~~~~

Duo and Wufei took their seats at a restaurant near their main office building. It wasn't until the waitress took their orders that Wufei spoke.

"Meiran and I found an apartment," he stated.

"An apartment?" Duo queried. "What about a house?"

"We're waiting for a closing on a parcel of land, and we'll build on that. The apartment will be temporary."

Duo whistled in appreciation. He'd always thought the idea of building a home to one's own specifications was a great idea, but he'd not needed more than the apartment he had. Real estate was usually a good investment, but one that he'd never taken advantage of.

"So that's what the little woman has been up to while you've been cavorting with Peacecraft and Winner?"

His head snapped forward as a blow landed on the back of his skull, and he looked up with a scowl.

"Watch who you call 'little,' Duo," Meiran said before sliding into the booth across from him.

"I thought you were busy this afternoon," Duo muttered, rubbing the back of his head.

"Don't you know it's a woman's prerogative to change her mind?" Meiran shot back.

"I'd like to know why you're only a stereotypical woman when it suits your purposes," Wufei grumbled, earning him an elbow in his side.

"I hear congratulations are in order," Duo said. To his surprise, she looked at him speculatively for a moment, then she nodded. "We got a damned good deal on the land. Quatre Winner makes you two look like fledglings."

Duo hid his discomfiture behind his glass of water at the mention of the blond businessman's name. He almost missed Wufei's look of surprise.

"Quatre Winner?" he asked.

She frowned at her husband. "Wufei, you're too old to be suffering dementia. Yes, Quatre Winner. Young, good-looking blond, could talk even you into wearing bright red lipstick and a frilly tutu before you'd realized what you'd agreed to. That Quatre."

"I would never do any such thing," he scowled at her, just before the waitress brought over a menu. Meiran waved the menu away, ordering her lunch swiftly. The waitress opened her mouth to ask her a question, then glanced at the pad of paper she was holding and realized she had all the information she needed. She snapped her mouth shut and walked away.

"Do you have the menu memorized or something? Damn." Duo whistled appreciatively.

"I get the same thing everywhere I go if I'm pressed for time," she said simply.

"Where are you headed to next?" Wufei asked.

"Nowhere," Meiran replied. "I just wanted to get her out of the way so we could talk without interruption."

Wufei muttered something under his breath that Duo didn't catch, but apparently Meiran heard it, because Wufei flinched again as her elbow caught him in the ribs.

"Duo," she said. "You have yet to meet Quatre, correct?"

Duo cleared his throat, then picked up his water glass. He answered while his lips were on the rim on the glass.

"You what?" Meiran was frowning at him.

"Duo left that meeting early," Wufei began, "but he was there when-" Meiran held up a hand to silence her husband.

She nodded. "You really do need to meet him, Duo. I think you'd really like him."

"You could be wrong," Duo said, placing his glass down about an inch to the right of where it had been originally.

Meiran folded her hands beneath her chin and studied him. He should have kept his mouth shut, but he couldn't help it. He had a grudge against Quatre Winner.

"It would be nice to see Meiran admit to being wrong for once," Wufei said. This time she let the comment pass without physically assaulting her husband. She was too busy studying the man across from her.

"Duo," she said slowly. "You have yet to meet Quatre, correct?"

Wufei looked at his wife curiously, then at Duo.

"No," Duo replied, hoping that would suffice. He knew better.

"No, you've not met him, or no, I'm not correct?"

"The latter."

She sat back in the seat and nodded once, then asked "When?"

"If you'd let Wufei finish what he was saying," Duo gestured toward his partner, "you'd know that I was in that meeting. I left early, I didn't skip it altogether. We were introduced."

"I know what you've told me in the past," she said thoughtfully. "But I also know there is something that you're keeping from me." She glanced at her husband. "Both of you."

Duo's eyes asked Wufei to intervene, and his partner acknowledged this by making an attempt to distract his wife.

"I can't help it if you were drunk that night," he said. She brightened at once.

"I _knew_ I'd recognized him! He hadn't mentioned it, but I can't say that I blame him."

Duo's eyes narrowed. Between the three of them, it seemed as though there was more to Quatre Winner than met the eye. He winced at that choice of phrase, remembering how much of Quatre his own eyes had been privy to.

"Are you going to go to California to see the building site for the new Sanquhar home office?"

Meiran was speaking again, Duo realized, and he shook his head.

"Why not?"

"There is no need to."

"That's where I must disagree," Meiran said. "You'll be sorry if you don't check it out yourself. Besides, Wufei can't be in two places at once."

"Neither can I!" His tone was sharp and self-defensive, but Meiran was not to be dissuaded.

"Who do you suggest takes care of the Sanquhar business while Wufei is busy teleconferencing? With you?"

He knew she was making excuses. They'd certainly been doing fine the past six weeks with the way things had been handled. She was trying to trick him, but he wasn't about to fall for it.

Before he could attempt to redirect her train of thought a second time, Wufei surprised them all.

"You."

Meiran turned to him, her eyes as large as Duo had ever seen them. "Me?"

Wufei nodded. "You have the time. You admit yourself, I'm spreading myself a bit thin, even with Janet assuming more responsibilities in her new job. You already have established a rapport with Winner, behind my back, I remind you, and you've a nose for business as well as bullshit." His smile looked almost feral. "And I, for one, think Milliardo Peacecraft needs another strong woman to knock him on his ass."

"Another strong woman?" Meiran's eyes were full of an almost manic interest, and despite Duo's curiosity regarding those same words, he was more grateful that Wufei had done the impossible. He'd thrown out a lure that Meiran was unable to resist.

He listened with half an ear as Wufei relayed the meeting of a dark-haired woman. If he didn't know any better, he'd swear his partner was describing Hilde to Meiran.

When his cell phone rang, he glanced at the number and chuckled softly before answering it. He was in good humor when he said "speak of the devil."

"I'm flattered," Hilde's voice said. "Although I don't know if you should be associating me with the prince of darkness. I might withhold the good news from you."

"What good news?"

"Ah, but that will cost you."

He sighed. "Now what do you need a date for?"

"Not a date, per se," she said. "But I want to tell you the news in person."

"You're a demanding wench," he said.

"You're only getting away with calling me that because I already dumped your sorry ass," she retorted.

He smiled a bit, amused at how he was able to view it in the same teasing light it was presented in. Another testament of how long their relationship really had been over in the romantic sense of the word.

"In person," he repeated. "Is it all right if I call you back?"

"Do I have a choice?"

Duo glanced at Meiran and Wufei, who were discussing in low tones what seemed like a done deal. Meiran was going to have an active role in the development of Sanq.

He wished he'd thought of the idea first, but he knew that Meiran didn't view Wufei's offer as a mere bone. This was something she was eminently qualified for.

"I'll call you later tonight," he said, then hung up and pocketed his phone.

It wasn't until their lunches were placed on the table that Meiran's attention returned to Duo in full force.

"You seem pensive."

He pulled his right hand out of pocket and folded his hands on the table. "You seem nosy as hell. It's not like you, Meiran."

She took a bite of her lunch and washed it down with a sip of water.

"Wufei and I met Quatre Winner the night after you took Heero to the art gallery."

Duo looked at her, his brows furrowing, although he wasn't sure which name she mentioned bothered him more.

"He was in a situation that was open for interpretation as to what he was doing at the bar in the first place."

"Bar? He looks fresh out of high school," Duo said, fascinated with his own lunch.

"He wouldn't be the first," Meiran mused. "Besides, appearances can be deceiving."

Duo waved his hand in the air impatiently. "Don't judge a book by its cover, yeah, got it."

"Speaking of books, what did you think of the _Maltese Falcon_?"

"I haven't finished it yet."

"You didn't care for it?"

"I left it on the plane," he ground out. Damn, it was a hell of a lot more amusing when Meiran was giving her husband the third degree. She wasn't stupid, and he wanted nothing more than for her to stop with her all too perceptive observations.

Meiran wasn't prone to interfering in others' lives, but she had a way of making a point in a roundabout manner. He didn't want to know what she had to say. His blood test was in the morning and he was suddenly nervous about what the results would be. He planned on exercising the power that his finances wielded to obtain the test results within a few hours instead of a couple of days. Perhaps it would be a false negative, but at least if anything did come back positive, he would be able to do something about it immediately.

"Duo," she said carefully. "You realize that we are here if you need us. If you need anything from us at all."

Two pairs of dark eyes were focused on him, and he crossed his arms in front of him.

"How much are you keeping from me?"

"I know where he works," Wufei said quietly.

"You know where he works?" Duo's eyes bored into Wufei's. "Street address? City?"

Wufei opened his mouth and then closed it.

"Let me cut to the chase," Meiran said. "Duo, what information are you looking for specifically? How to track him down?"

"No! No," Duo repeated. "That is...no. But...out of curiosity...where does he work?"

Wufei opened his mouth again and Duo held up a hand. "No," he repeated. "I'm sorry. Not this way."

Meiran stood up and handed a set of car keys to her husband. "Wufei, please go to my car and check under the seat. I think some paperwork might have ended up under there after I stopped at a traffic light."

He looked at her before sliding out of the booth and accepting the keys.

"Why don't you just send me to the bathroom if you want to be alone with him," he said under his breath as he passed his wife.

Meiran sat down and waited for Wufei to put enough distance between them so he could not overhear.

"I told Wufei not to say anything unless you asked, Duo, but I think you're not sure what the question is. What do you want to know?"

Duo mulled over the question. What DID he want to know? How Heero felt about him? He hadn't wanted to accept it, but he'd known. He'd suspected it, he supposed, even before he took that final step with Heero. He'd felt it that last night together, but sex had a way of coloring things more than any pair of rose-colored glasses. It had to, because otherwise it made no sense whatsoever.

Did he want to know what had led Heero to prostitution? He had in the beginning. He supposed he was still curious, but he was certain that it centered around the dead friend that Heero was supposed to marry, or not marry. That hadn't been very clear either.

Did he want to know where Heero worked?

He realized that if he received that information, it would change things. He was still puzzling things out in his head, and Heero's real profession could sway things in a direction they weren't meant to be, one way or another.

No, he needed to figure this out on his own. He wanted to next face Heero without investigating him first like a common criminal. It might mean nothing to Heero one way or another, but it meant a hell of a lot to him.

It bothered him a bit that Wufei knew something he didn't know, but fortunately Duo could not tell if the information had been withheld to protect him or because Meiran knew all along that he'd not want any outside influences.

It did help, though. Knowing there was a potential lead, that he could possibly track down the mysterious Heero Yuy, took a weight off his shoulders. He might ask Wufei for that information later, once he'd come to terms with the very thing he'd been fighting tooth and nail for the past month and a half.

For a while he'd considered going to clubs to test his newfound preference, but he hated that scene. He certainly didn't want to wander into one looking desperate or defiant. He supposed that, since he wasn't really looking to meet anyone, he could just easily be surreptitious in checking out guys in a restaurant or gym. Just as long as he didn't get caught ogling. It was the same thing with women. Subtlety was key to avoid getting caught.

He smiled at Meiran, one of his genuine smiles.

"Tell me about Quatre Winner," he said.

She grinned right back at him, as if she'd known all along what decision he'd come to, and that she was damned proud of him as well.

And perhaps it was time to stop viewing Quatre as competition and start thinking of him as a partner.

tbc

~~~~~

Grit - a sandstone with grains of very unequal sizes. Sandstone is "a sedimentary rock made up of sand that usually consists of quartz more or less firmly united by some cement." Synonyms for sandstone are grit, old red sandstone, and sandrock.

Sean Caer - "Old Fort" or "Old Castle" - the original name of the town of Sanquhar.

Lester Gillis, a/k/a "Baby Face Nelson," was an American gangster of the Depression-era, along with Pretty Boy Floyd, Ma Barker, and Bonne & Clyde. One source of info on Baby Face can be found here:   
http : // www . crimelibrary . com / americana / babyface/

Peroni Beer, Noin's alternate wager prize, contains only a modest 4.7% ABV. Despite Heero's teasing reply about Noin's tolerance, this is comparable to several domestic US beers - Budweiser has 4.9% ABV, Michelob has 5%, Miller Genuine Draft has 4.66%, Samuel Adams Boston Lager contains 4.75%, and microbrewery Magic Hat's Humble Patience has 4.8%.

For those with far too much time on their hands, Peroni's home page can be found here:   
http : // www . peroni . it / hi . html

I can't order this beer without thinking of Peyronie's disease, however. What's Peyronie's Disease, you ask?  
http : // kidney . niddk . nih . gov / kudiseases / pubs / peyronie / index . htm

~~~~~

holly - I'm glad you liked the ending scene with Quatre. It's one of the reasons I was so determined to try to get this chapter done as soon as I could find the time...I wanted to revisit the conversation between him and Trowa right away!

CuriousDreamWeaver - thanks! I've probably mentioned this before, but I have a soft spot for Trowa that I didn't realize until I'd started writing.

Link Worshiper - ah, yes, the long awaited Heero/Duo reunion is driving more than a few folks batty, judging by the complaints I've gotten in my e-mail! Duo is slowly coming to grips with a few things and pulling in bits and pieces from his week with Heero...can't say when or how they'll next see each other, but I'm working on paving that road slowly. I'd really hoped to have this chapter up two days ago, but this was the best I could do. I'm very excited about seeing the art you did!

Nicola DEE - voila - Duo has made his reappearance this chapter!

Lrigelbbub - thanks!

Pia Bartolini - ah, thanks. I've not CHOSEN to slow down, but the little one is getting faster and more inquisitive every day. She's in her mesh!prison right now so that buys me about ninety seconds to finish answering the reviews before she realizes it's boring in the playpen.

Vialana - thanks for the compliment. Hope you enjoyed Trowa just as much this chapter as you did the last.

Kanon/161386 - yes...I had the best intentions of finishing this chapter before the weekend was up, but she had other ideas! I think this is the fastest I've managed to update in a while.

Faith - thank you so very much! Alas, no, although one of my best buds keeps prodding me to write "the novel" - but there is so much competition out there! You've made my day, though - thanks!

feckless - thanks! 

Youkai Girl - thank you so very much for your encouraging words! I can relate to the job search online issue. Tried to convince my husband I was on monster . com a lot more often than I really was!

MelizaMac - I'm still trying to keep you all on your toes as far as when and how they meet...so I can't comment just yet, although I've been dropping several hints! Cover the outlets? Darn, I was hoping for a Li'l Orphan Annie hairstyle (bleh!).

Alana Quinn - ooh another one who was sucked into the April Fool's prank! I honestly thought I'd be done with the entire story well before then. That'll teach me to underestimate my daughter - and my own desire to turn this into something a bit more complex than the movie was! Thanks for taking a few moments to let me know your thoughts. Hope the 'net connection is more cooperative. I was distraught when I lost mine a few weeks ago!

Kary-Asakura - things are progressing...slowly, but progressing!

My thanks to everyone who has reviewed and who has stuck with this monster despite the slower updates. 


	62. Dum Spiro, Spero

****

The Edulcoration of Duo Maxwell - 61/?

~~~~~

Warnings: AU, yaoi, coarse language, violence, angst, cliffhangers, red herrings, mention of various vices, random bits of useless knowledge, occasionally explicit sex, enough footnotes to choke an army of horses.

Spoilers: Nah

Disclaimer: I don't really need to be Captain Obvious here, do I? No ownership, no money being made, yadda yadda. Written for fun, not profit.

Pairings to date: 2x1x2, 3+4, 4x3, 5+M/5xM, 9+6, past 2xH, past 4x1

Archived at:   
http : // www . atsui . org  
http : // sweetlysour . net  
http : //www . theforsakenwk . com  
http : // www . gundam-wing-diaries . 150m . com

__

Edulcorate (verb) - To free from harshness (as of attitude); to soften

~~~~~

****

Chapter 61 - Dum Spiro, Spero

Duo wiped his palms on his pants, a nervous gesture he despised. Part of him wished he'd listened to Gibson and waited for the three-month mark before having blood drawn. He was only going to have to go through this again later.

What had they been thinking, that last night together, to have unprotected sex? What the hell had _Heero_ been thinking? Heero had been militant about protection from the get-go.

What had he, himself, been thinking?

Something had changed. A subtle shift in their so-called relationship. The way Heero's lips and tongue had felt on his cock, without a condom between them, was like nothing he'd experienced before.

Hilde hadn't been exactly fond of performing that particular act, although she did enjoy being the recipient. Perhaps that's why Duo enjoyed doing it. There was something incredibly arousing about knowing you could elicit certain reactions from your partner.

He wondered what it tasted like. Since Hilde never allowed it in her mouth the few times she'd performed fellatio, he'd never had the opportunity to taste it on her lips. Funny how it had seemed a relief to him at the time.

Heero hadn't kissed him afterwards, either. That had come much later.

That fucking kiss.

The week with Heero, from a purely sexual point of view, was a study in highs and lows. The way sex with Heero felt was different than sex with Hilde, and not just physically.

Perhaps it was the way Heero fought him - had fought enjoying it.

He hadn't lied to Heero. He'd wanted the other man to feel good. Wanted him to come, wanted him to know who had made him shoot his load all over the sheets, or his belly, or his chest.

It was about control, but it was more than that.

It was about that fucking kiss.

Heero had been prostituting himself for some time before they'd met, and Duo hadn't seen a healthier looking physique. If he'd seen Heero in a gym or a business meeting or a restaurant, he'd never jump to the conclusion that this man had ever conceived of selling his body for money.

Duo shook his head. He might be making a hell of an assumption, but he doubted that the reason Heero sold his body was simply for the money. There was a hell of a lot more to Heero than met the eye. He'd known that from the moment he'd looked into those eyes through the window of the Ferrari. That was before he'd realized how damned expressive they were.

Heero could be very closed off at times, but he let glimpses of his real self out now and then. Duo had learned to use his eyes as part of his stage costume for the drama called life. If you could look someone in the eye and put a hint of the right emotion in your face, they'd believe anything you wanted. It wasn't what you said; it was how you said it.

Heero had a hell of a poker face when it suited him, but he showed a range of emotions as well.

Anger. Humor. Sorrow. Passion.

Heero's eyes had occasionally indicated each of these, but his body language was just as communicative.

Good god, Heero's body could be incredibly expressive when he wanted it to be.

Duo supposed that was what had made that last night so memorable, so damned hot. It wasn't that Heero had coaxed his body into uncontrollable bone melting orgasm, as Duo hadn't even found release that night.

It was the intimate connection with Heero, something more than their physical joining.

Heero had been unsure, almost timid despite his aggressiveness. Duo had felt more in control of things as uke than he ever had as seme.

He couldn't help the rueful grin that played about his lips. Despite the fact that being penetrated would never be at the top of his list of preferred sexual activities, the feeling of power was incredibly erotic. 

He wondered if it was the same for Heero. How could it not be?

Duo stood up and walked to the wall pockets hanging next to a small poster advertising an upcoming health fair, and selected a pamphlet at random.

Inside the informational brochure on erectile dysfunction, one that made him wince at his unintentional selection, was another pamphlet. One that was obviously not printed by the same group that had done the others, because the graphic style was distinctly different. It had been folded so that the front cover was not on top.

Curious, he opened it up.

It looked like a testimonial for a counseling workshop for couples experiencing sexual difficulties in their relationship. Heterosexual couples, but really, what was the difference, other than the obvious Tab A-Slot B mechanics?

One couple, their names changed to protect the innocent, stated that they'd felt they were in a rut, and had considered incorporating the use of various adult oriented toys into their bedroom gymnastics.

There was a paragraph explaining the use of one such device, one that had the male partner questioning his sexual preferences because he felt he enjoyed it too much.

Duo found that interesting. He folded up the brochure and slid it into the pocket of the jacket that was thrown over the back of a chair, then thrust his hands in his pockets and started pacing.

He was relieved to hear the knock on the door.

~~~~~

Heero fingered the sealed envelope as he sat opposite Jameson Hunter. He was pretty sure he knew what results were contained within. So what was he waiting for?

Normally the results were reviewed in person, face-to-face, regardless of the outcome, as part of normal procedure. Heero had decided if someone were going to counsel him through whatever he might find, he might as well stick with just one person. They wouldn't allow him to see the results without a doctor present, to answer any questions or address any concerns. 

It was a bit unorthodox of Heero to request that the results be delivered to Hunter, but he wasn't up to inviting more speculation about his mental state by giving away anything to Kaydence Stevenson. She'd know the results, but she could get them the same way he was, in black and white.

He'd held his breath when Hunter had pulled the envelope out of his file and slid it across his desk. Heero had reached out hesitantly before picking it up.

He tapped the envelope in the palm of his left hand. How much time had passed?

"Your trepidation is to be expected, Heero. Take your time."

That spurned him into action. He dealt with facts, and the sooner he opened the envelope, the sooner he'd be able to lay some of his fears to rest.

He tore it open, surprising himself with the vehemence at which he did so, and unfolded the sheaf of documents.

His eyes scanned them one by one and then he folded them and set them on the seat next to him without a word.

"I'd allow you time to absorb the information, Heero, but as you know, the results of an HIV test must be reviewed personally. If you've changed your mind, I can call Kaye-"

"Negative," Heero interrupted. "The results," he clarified. "Negative." He stood up and handed the results - all of them - to Hunter, who perused them quickly before handing them back.

"No indications of substance abuse," the doctor commented, sounding unsurprised. "As for the other results, you do understand we'll be in this position again in a couple of months."

Heero shook his head. "Perhaps you and I will be done by then."

"You'd prefer to hear the news from Kaye at that time?"

"I cannot answer that at present."

"Fair enough. None of us really knows what the future holds."

"No," Heero said. "That's not true."

Hunter remained silent, as he usually did when Heero began speaking.

"One must always be prepared for the unexpected," Heero said slowly. "But it is possible to set things in place so that a particular outcome is encouraged, if not guaranteed."

"Speaking from experience, Heero?"

Heero didn't respond right away, then said, "I hope so."

"And hope is what keeps us going forward when all else fails."

Heero's eyes bored into the doctor's. "Yes."

~~~~~

"I look forward to working with you, Ms. Long," Quatre said, smiling at her warmly. He meant it; her presence would be a welcome breath of fresh air - something that was a key ingredient in a new venture like Sanquhar.

"Meiran," she insisted.

His smile grew broader. "Meiran."

"Have we concluded our business here, Quatre?"

He nodded in response, and she stood up, prompting him to follow suit. "What are you doing for lunch, Mister Winner?" The mischievous light in her eyes should have alarmed him, but he realized he was looking forward to whatever she had in store for him.

"What do you suggest?"

She hooked her arm through his. "Trust me."

Quatre had recognized Meiran Long from the first moment he met her at the Peacecraft office several weeks earlier. Meetings alternated between there and the Maxwell-Chang building, until the new Sanq location was constructed. Quatre's father did not want to give a home field advantage to any of the partners, so a small, modest set of offices was part of the plan. It also gave Sanquhar the benefit of having its own identity. Once employees were hired or transferred, their energies would be devoted to the development and growth of Sanq - not to their parent companies.

The fledgling Sanquhar, Inc. had the advantage of an existing customer base, something most start-up businesses lacked. You couldn't buy loyalty, it had to be earned, and that was where Sanq would come out ahead of the competition from Day One. Of that, at least, Quatre had no doubt.

Now, though, when he thought of the incident at the bar, where he'd first made the fleeting acquaintance of the man later introduced to him as Wufei Chang, he felt warmth radiate from his gut to his extremities.

He'd expected that Meiran had it in her head to act as a surrogate mother, to be honest, the way she'd maneuvered him into a lunch meeting. He could have come up with a half dozen reasons for avoiding it, had he been anything but curious as hell.

Instead, she simply chatted with him, as if they were school chums. Much like he and Trowa used to do each morning. Quatre was taken aback at first. He was not often surprised, and here he'd managed to be knocked on his proverbial ass twice in a very short period of time.

It wasn't until they'd finished eating and engaging in light conversation that Quatre looked her straight in the eye and asked her, "why should I trust you?"

She leaned back casually, resting her elbow on the back of her seat.

"We would make very poor business partners otherwise."

He nodded slowly. "You do realize that doesn't answer my question."

She smiled. "Of course."

Quatre realized that he was comfortable with Meiran Long, and that reminded him of his last conversation with Heero.

He had to know what Dorothy knew. Not for Heero, not for Heero's investigation, but for himself.

And the best way to do so was to beard the lion, or the lioness, in this case, in her den.

After he'd dealt with that particular issue, he had one more person he needed to confront face to face.

He smiled back at the dark-haired woman seated across from him and responded to her next comment without missing a beat.

~~~~~

"I understand, Heero, that there is a distinct possibility you'll be doing some field work in the near future."

"Possibly, yes."

Hunter was quietly assessing as always. "How do you feel about that?"

"I will do whatever is necessary to further the investigation."

"Is that an unconditional statement, Heero?"

"If I felt that my actions went against my beliefs, I have chosen the wrong profession."

"Point taken. Do you think you're ready for it? Drawing your gun if needed? Stakeouts that may yield nothing concrete?" Hunter paused. "What if you needed to pose as a prostitute?"

"There is a distinct line between reality and fiction," Heero said. "I do not plan on underestimating my own worth. It was a poor judgement on my part, and I do not intend to repeat that mistake. She would be disappointed to know how I reacted to her death."

"You also realize you still seem to have trouble saying her name, Heero?"

"I don't mention her name lightly. That was the case before she was killed. That nickname was something personal, just between the two of us."

"I see," Hunter said, his face betraying none of what he thought. "Interesting that you do not use any euphemisms when describing what happened to Esperanza."

"Dead is dead," Heero said quietly.

"You are an intriguing person, Heero. You don't like to say the name 'Kitty' because it's something intimate, and yet you have no qualms calling a spade a spade when it comes to other aspects of your recent past. Nonetheless, you've demonstrated a remarkable ability to overcome your personal trauma. At this time I recommend reducing the frequency of our sessions to once a week."

Heero was pleased to hear it. It wasn't that he disliked Jameson Hunter, it was the sting to his pride that he was still required to attend counseling.

However, he also would never have seen himself doing what he'd done the past few months, either, so he supposed the sessions were a bit of a safety net for him.

Despite the self-disgust he felt when he recalled the number of men he'd bent over for, he couldn't say he regretted all of it.

Hunter noted the bittersweet expression on Heero's face, and debated on commenting. He'd told Heero on more than one occasion that he knew something was being kept hidden from him. He suspected it was a person who had a large impact on Heero's life. Perhaps more than one. For someone who seemed to radiate isolation, he wouldn't be surprised to find his patient had a network of people that he cared for. He did not believe that Heero's feelings for the girl he'd considered a sister were an aberration.

What the doctor wanted to know was if Heero was keeping that part of his life private out of respect for the other person or persons, or if it was something he was keeping close to his heart, like the use of the name 'Kitty.'

Hunter was impressed by Heero Yuy's pragmatic views and his strength of will. Heero was a determined young man who, he suspected, could be charismatic if he so desired.

Heero seemed to respond best to veiled inferences. It was likely that those closest to the man spoke in much the same manner when the occasion called for it.

It was time to test a theory he'd come up with during the counseling sessions, based on all the things Heero didn't say.

"Our time is almost up for today, Heero. I just have some parting words of advice for you."

Heero stood up and looked at him with one eyebrow raised, waiting.

"You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make him drink."

To his surprise, Heero Yuy actually smiled at him. "You can if he's thirsty."

Hunter contemplated that response as he watched his patient walk out the door, his stride no different than any other day, and yet it still conveyed a lightness of spirit that he suspected had little to do with the test results.

He chuckled. He wasn't surprised at all. Yuy had struck him as an optimist from their first meeting.

~~~~~

"So you've captured the interest of this man," Duo said teasingly.

"Yes, and you're not invited to the wedding, either," Hilde said, rolling her eyes at Duo's deliberate misunderstanding of her news about the new client. It was funny, she mused, how she was now able to take his irreverence in good humor. Had he made a joke of it while they were still involved, she'd have been very upset - insulted, even, that he seemed to think her career was something to joke about.

She was stunned to realize how much she'd taken for granted when she and Duo were together. Had the things that seemed obvious to her now always been there?

Duo was proud of her, she knew that, but he wasn't the type to come out and gush about it. In fact, that's what she'd liked about him from the start. He'd never pretended to be one of those men in touch with his feminine side. Whether it made her old fashioned or not, Hilde didn't care for men who cried at the drop of a hat. Hell, she didn't care for women who did so, either, which is why she'd always gotten along so well with Meiran Long when their paths crossed. How Meiran managed to keep her sanity dealing with trophy wives was beyond comprehension.

The downside of Duo's making light of things was the difficulty presented in determining when something really bothered him. Unless he was outwardly displaying anger, it had always been difficult for her to say when he was honestly upset.

She didn't realize she was studying him so intently until he said dryly, "take a picture, Hil, it'll last longer."

He hadn't called her 'Hil' in a long time, either. He only started because a coworker of hers insisted on abbreviating everyone's name, and she made the mistake of complaining about it to Duo one day. It had been his way of saying she was taking things too seriously. Pot, meet kettle.

"If I'm going to use up any film at all," she shot back at him, "I'm sure I could find at least five other men who I'd rather ogle in my spare time."

"Like Mister Rocks-Your-Socks-Off, your new boy toy 'client'?"

"He's old enough to be my grandfather!" She plucked her napkin off her lap and threw it at him. "You're impossible, Duo Maxwell."

"We all must be good at something," he pointed out as soon as the dark colored square of linen slid from his smug expression. It pooled into his own lap, out of sight once again.

She noted his grin and realized it was a bit more sincere than the last few he'd flashed at her.

"OK, Duo, what's got you so pumped up today?"

He looked startled, as if she'd caught him with his pants down. She tamped down the laughter that threatened to erupt as she envisioned Duo waddling around with his pants around his ankles.

"I'm just pleased to be dining with such a beautiful woman," he said, and although she rolled her eyes at him again, she knew he wasn't just flattering her.

Which also made her wonder about what he'd said to her that day as she worked the medicated shampoo through the length of his hair. She wouldn't be surprised if one day she saw him and his hair came to just below his ears. At one time he'd seemed defiant in keeping it as long as he had, but lately it seemed to lack the luster it once had, as she'd mentioned before the debacle with the head lice.

She didn't dare suggest he cut it all off, though. He might decide to do it on his own, but she wasn't going to be the one to mention it. He'd seemed pretty angry about it that day, before his announcement.

'I think you were right,' he'd said.

Hilde wasn't sure what had really made her question his orientation. Perhaps it was a way of making herself feel better for the lack of attention. Perhaps it was because Duo often seemed to go out of his way to seem cold and callous about things, and she thought he'd relate better to a man if he wanted a relationship. Perhaps it was because he'd slowly seemed less and less interested in their sex life. He'd never been much of a cuddler, but over the last few months before they'd called it quits, he'd seemed to treat bringing her to orgasm as some sort of task he was required to finish. Or perhaps...perhaps she was overanalyzing her own motives just as much as she was doing regarding Duo.

"Earth to Hilde," he said, looking a bit concerned. When she looked at him with a bemused expression, he added, "penny for your thoughts?"

"You always were a cheap bastard, Duo," she said affectionately. He looked surprised at the deeply affectionate tone she used. "I was just thinking about what you should wear to dinner this weekend."

"I thought this news about your geriatric client was my Get-Out-of-Jail-Free card."

She clucked her tongue at him. "No, you didn't. You might have been hoping so, but you didn't believe any such thing."

"A man can dream," he said, then his gaze seemed to cloud over just a moment. "And I'm capable of dressing myself."

"You're a man," she pointed out. "As such, you are helpless at picking out suitable attire."

He adopted an expression of being deeply wounded. "And as a man, I pull a suit out of my closet, make sure the cuffs are buttoned and my fly is zipped. I promise, no zoot suits, no underground rave fashions, and no golf pants."

She took a sip of her water and gestured for Duo to hand her the napkin she'd tossed at him earlier. When he returned it, she threw it at him a second time.

It wasn't long after that the two of them walked out, Duo's arm around her shoulders and hers around his waist. She rested her head on his upper arm for just a second as they reached his car. She pulled away and waited for him to unlock the door.

"Duo," she teased. "Stop playing pocket pool."

He looked like a kid with his hands caught in more than the cookie jar. "I will when you start letting me reap the so-called 'benefits' of our friendship." He opened the door for her, but she made no move to enter the car.

She held up her right hand and rubbed her thumb and forefinger together in a circular motion. "See this, Duo?"

He snorted. "Yeah, I got it," he said, rolling his eyes. "The world's smallest violin..."

"...playing just for you," she finished.

"I think I at least deserve the whole damn orchestra," he muttered. She laughed and slid into the seat. Although he shut her door forcefully, she knew he wasn't angry.

As he walked around the other side of the car, Hilde was once again convinced that her earlier suspicions were right.

Something had been worrying Duo, and whatever it had been was no longer weighing as heavily on his mind.

It was almost too bad they weren't really planning on exercising the 'friends with benefits' option, because he did look incredibly sexy when he was pleased about something.

Duo put his key in the ignition and started the car. As he was fastening his seat belt, she put a hand on his arm.

"What now?" he asked, trying to sound put out but failing.

"Would you stop somewhere on the way to my apartment?"

"What do you need this time, Hilde?"

She grinned at him. "D batteries."

Hilde was rewarded with the sound of Duo's laughter as he pulled away from the curb. She realized how much she'd missed it.

With any luck, she'd hear more of it Friday night. She reached over and changed the radio station to something she knew would annoy Duo. Predictably, he complained about it the entire way to her apartment, but didn't make her change it back.

And when she kissed him goodnight, on the cheek, she noted the way his hair smelled, and felt a tiny wave of sadness that it wasn't quite the same anymore.

Duo wasn't quite the same anymore.

He walked her to her door and they embraced briefly before she entered the apartment. Once inside, she sat on the couch and kicked her shoes off, then pulled her feet up under her.

Duo Maxwell was a better friend than a lover, she thought drowsily. She draped her arms over the armrest and laid her head on them before sliding her legs to the opposite end of the couch. Before her eyes fluttered shut, she acknowledged that, in her book, the former was much more important than the latter.

tbc

~~~~~

Link Worshiper - I'm glad someone recognizes that the journey can be as much fun as the destination. Ahhh, a mouthful of Heero (eyes glaze over)... that reminds me, I have to pare this down a smidge to an R-rating level. OH! And thanks again for the lovely artwork you sent! (beams)

Nicola DEE - I'm glad you're enjoying it, and just a bit longer, I think, before you see where things go with Quatre and Trowa.

holly - I already let ya know that you hit the nail on the head. I'm glad that came across the way I'd hoped!

Alana Quinn - gee, that's not what I meant to convey regarding Duo and Quatre. Just think back to the only two meetings the two of them have had, and one thing that motivated Duo into making a hasty exit each time. I'm so pleased you enjoyed the exchange between Heero and Noin. And my daughter is fine - she finally gave me some time to get this chapter finished! Thanks for asking!

Pia Bartolini - if I told you when it was coming, that would ruin the surprise when it's time! But I understand. Even though I know when it's going to happen, I am impatient to reunite them.

CuriousDreamWeaver - I think perhaps Heero did understand what Quatre was telling him, even if it had to be force fed to him. Glad you liked the Quatre/Trowa scene. I've really enjoyed working with the two of them.

feckless - not sure if enough has happened yet to indicate how accurate your speculation has been. Hope it does exceed your expectations when you're able to make that comparison!

Lrigelbbub - thanks! I am trying my best to maintain a weekly update schedule if I can. I have other projects that are begging to be worked on as soon as I finish this one!

Kanon*A - Thanks! Hopefully more of Quatre's feelings will become clear in the next chapter or two.

Demonik Dreamer - thanks for your understanding and your kind words!

And of course, thanks to anyone who reviewed but I missed. I hope any questions that are lingering do get answered as the story slowly heads toward its conclusion.


	63. The Divine Comedy

****

The Edulcoration of Duo Maxwell - 62 of 64?

Warnings: AU, yaoi, coarse language, violence, angst, cliffhangers, red herrings, mention of various vices, random bits of useless knowledge, occasionally explicit sex, enough footnotes to choke an army of horses.

Spoilers: Nah

Disclaimer: I don't really need to be Captain Obvious here, do I? No ownership, no money being made, yadda yadda. Written for fun, not profit.

Pairings to date: 2x1x2, 34, 4x3, 5M/5xM, 96, past 2xH, past 4x1

Archived at:   
http:www.atsui.org  
http:sweetlysour.net  
http:theforsakenwk.com  
http:www.gundam-wing-diaries.150m.com

Edulcorate (verb) - To free from harshness (as of attitude); to soften

****

Chapter 62 - The Divine Comedy

Quatre Winner thanked the gentleman who opened the door to Duke Dermail's estate and invited him in, as he was shown to the library to await Dorothy Catalonia.

He'd wanted to show up unannounced, to surprise her, but he prided himself on showing proper decorum. Almira's influence, to some extent, but he considered it a matter of personal pride as well. He respected that uninvited guests often put a host in an uncomfortable position, and although he was sure he could use every advantage, it wasn't worth it to him to be discourteous.

She hadn't sounded surprised when he'd phoned, but Dorothy had a way of saying one thing and meaning four others.

As he waited, he eyed the books on the shelves, but again, he felt it poor etiquette to make himself at home by turning his back toward the entry where his hostess would arrive. At least in this case it wasn't just a matter of being polite; it made good tactical sense.

"Quatre Raberba Winner," she greeted him. He hated to admit it, but the way she intoned his name had always sent a chill up his spine. She was the only one to say it like that, with just the right mix of veiled contempt and smugness, all with a veneer of sophistication.

"Been a while, Yuy," the make-up artist commented as he tilted Heero's head from side to side, examining his facial features.

Heero grunted. If it were up to him, it'd be even longer. Preferably never.

The wardrobe consultant was discussing possible locations for his wire with the surveillance technician as Heero suffered the discussion of his facial features and hairstyle.

"This is good," the hairstylist commented, running her fingers through his bangs. "Healthy hair is always easiest to work with. Unless we're going for a complete shave up top?"

He listened carefully to all the options available, especially regarding which things were reversible and which were not. The last thing he needed was something that would be easily identifiable later on.

The worst part was that now he was going to owe Noin that damn cup of Starbucks coffee after all.

If there was one thing that Quatre had learned about Dorothy in all their years of acquaintance, it was her love of a good fight.

Which is why he'd suggested the chess game that they'd been engaged in for the last hour.

Admittedly, he was milking each and every move he made. He didn't really need that much time to deliberate, and he suspected she knew it, but he did use the time in between each move to study his opponent.

Had he had any heterosexual leanings, perhaps he'd have been attracted to her that fateful summer when Almira began her less than subtle matchmaking efforts. The pale coloring on anyone else would look washed-out, but Dorothy had what one would call 'presence.'

She was not the sort of person who could walk into a room unnoticed.

Physical attraction, however, was not enough to forge a lasting partnership, romantic or otherwise. Dorothy was manipulative, and although Quatre had exercised many of the same skills, their motivations were vastly different.

He slowly removed his fingers from his pawn and waited.

The triumphant gleam in Dorothy's eyes was expected, as was the sudden recognition that Quatre had set her up as soon as she began to make her countermove. Her fingers were still on her chess piece, and she smiled as she returned it to its original square and took a look at the chessboard once more.

Perhaps they knew each other better than either gave themselves credit for.

Another hour went by, occasionally punctuated with a sarcastically smug comment by Dorothy or a calm observation of Quatre's regarding her strategy.

It was Quatre's turn when Duke Dermail returned.

Dorothy seemed both reluctant to call a halt to their game and pleased that neither of them had managed to claim a victory in the time they'd been playing.

"Interesting that you prefer not to sacrifice your pawns," she commented. "The first line of defense is often the most expendable."

Quatre smiled, not his usual warm smile, but the one he'd used when he'd baited Trowa. He remembered an Italian proverb he'd heard, and he repeated it now.

"When the chess game is over," he said, making direct eye contact with Dorothy's cool blue eyes, "the pawns, rooks, knights, bishops, kings, and queens all go back into the same box."

"Each time a new chess game is begun," she replied. "Both players start with all the same pieces, regardless of how many wins and losses have been acquired previously." There was a flicker of amusement and something that, on anyone else, Quatre would have called fondness. "We've not yet completed our game, Quatre Winner. I look forward to resuming it in the future."

It wasn't until later that evening, when Quatre was lying on the bed of his hotel room staring at the ceiling and waiting for room service to bring his meal, that he realized two things.

The first was that Dorothy was using the chess game as a euphemism for their relationship as rivals - personally and professionally. If she knew about Quatre's temporary stint as a prostitute, she was not going to use that as a means of bringing him down.

The second was that it had been the first time in all their years of acquaintance that she'd addressed him without use of his middle name.

He and Dorothy would never be friends, but as he'd come to find out, there were some relationships that defied such convenient labels.

"Stop fidgeting, Noin."

"I don't fidget."

"Too much nervous energy is going to give you prematurely gray hairs, _'Neesan_."

At the unexpected nickname, she turned her computer chair to face Heero, who was leaning against the printer table with his arms crossed. She shrugged off the momentary surprise his words caused and let her eyes travel up and down his body, then laughed. "Too easy."

He scowled at her. "Trade?"

Her amusement hadn't faded. She held up her fingers and ticked off each reason.

"You don't have the history with Khushrenada that I do. You're better at pulling this off than I am. And no, Heero, even if you went to California disguised as me," here she stopped counting on her fingers and stood up, looking down her nose at him, "too short to pull it off." She stepped back. "Your hair, that is. These bangs aren't long enough."

"You're a horrible liar, Noin."

"Which is just one more reason why you're the best choice. Face it, Yuy, if I have to stop fidgeting, you have to stop whining about your assignment and pay up."

"I don't whine."

"And I don't fidget."

"I have told you how much I hate you today, right?"

"Same you, Yuy."

"Noin - you'll do fine."

"Gonna go into your little imperfect love spiel again?"

"Truth is truth, no matter how tidily it's summarized."

"How can I argue with that logic?"

"I ask myself the same question every time you try."

Hilde fiddled with Duo's radio again.

"Looking for anything in particular?" he said, not taking his eyes from the road.

"Something just for you, Duo. How about some nice techno music?"

"I will kill you."

"Country western?"

"Then I'll dismember you."

"Or I could serenade you a cappella..."

"And feed the pieces to a pack of rabid weasels. Remind me again why I agreed to go with you to this thing."

"Because you owe me."

"Women," he snorted.

Duo understood exactly why Hilde had wanted him to accompany her. She didn't just want a date, she needed someone who knew how to mingle and someone who could watch her back, so to speak. He'd not realized how easy these events were for him, really. As a wealthy and successful CEO, he had to deal with the fawning attention from those attempting to curry favor. As a man, he found himself in situations like he'd been in with Rita Landry, feigning sexual interest just enough to gain an ally but not enough to make an enemy.

Hilde, on the other hand, was a representative for a much smaller company, and she had the unpleasant task of trying to get noticed. How she did it and managed to retain her dignity and pride, he didn't know.

Thinking of Rita Landry, however, made him think of the art gallery where he'd last seen her, and the art gallery made him think of Heero's pensive expression as he'd examined the broken pencil sculpture.

If he'd truly wanted a reconciliation with Hilde, honestly desired it with all of his heart, could it ever have been salvaged, after all the mistakes made?

Heero had found that sculpture interesting, but had thought it was ugly as sin. He'd said something about finding it symbolic.

Duo had nearly forgotten about the sculpture, because shortly after that, Heero had been accosted by that Hispanic man. Duo suspected, even then, that there was more to that little encounter than met the eye. He'd filed that away in his mind, one more thing that added to the intrigue of Heero Yuy.

When had Heero stopped being a puzzle to be solved and started becoming more?

He recognized the signal that Hilde was giving him from across the room and made his way to her side to play the game. He was a master of it, after all.

"That was painful," Hilde commented as he unlocked the door to the car.

"You deliberately inflicted that pain on me as well," Duo said dryly. "You really must love me."

"I'll make it up to you," she said. "Give me the keys."

"Driving me home in my own car is going to make it up to me how, exactly?"

"Not going to your place, and you know my car is in the shop. I really am a better date than this."

"To yours, then? To bestow me with benefits?"

"Get in the car, pig," she said, removing the dangling keys from his fingers.

"We really would have been a much better match in college, I think," she said. "Where did you go again?"

The casually asked question made Duo realize how little they'd shared of their pasts. Had he ever been curious about where Hilde had gone to school the way he had about Heero?

Hilde noticed Duo's preoccupation when he failed to answer her, but he did get into the passenger side once she nudged his shoulder.

The evening was nothing more than yet another excuse to make contacts and sell herself the same way a prospective employee did at a job interview, but in a social setting. The trick was to be remembered for the right things.

She drove for a while before heading down a little side street and parking in a tiny lot. He raised a questioning eyebrow.

"It's fine to leave it here, Duo. We used to do this all the time in college."

"Your car was also most likely a Ford Pinto."

"Duo! That's like accusing me of being much older than I really am. You don't suggest a woman is ancient like that."

"You women have too many rules to follow," Duo complained. "Do you all sit down and compare notes?"

"Like guys don't gossip either," she said. "Face it, Duo, there are fewer gender differences than you'd like to believe."

As they walked down the street and toward what Duo realized was nothing more than a pub, he mulled over what she'd said. Perhaps she was on to something. Now that he wasn't sleeping with Hilde, he felt he knew her better than he had over the past three years. If not for the fact that they were spending more time together now than they had before they'd 'broken up,' he might've thought they had little more than a physical relationship from the start.

"Oh," she said as they reached the door. "It's not the Inferno anymore."

Duo looked up at the sign over the door and agreed that it was not.

"Well, it doesn't matter, I'm sure it's still a big college hangout." He followed her in.

It smelled just like most bars, although there was not yet a heavy scent of smoke in the air. It was early yet, he supposed. He expected to see the local university students arrive in small packs.

"There won't be any decent drink specials on the weekend," Hilde mused. "That's when they do their best business without needing the lure of the one-dollar beers or two-for-one well drinks."

"In that case, think we can afford it?"

She punched him lightly in the arm. "I'm getting you the cheapest beer on tap if you keep that up."

"You come here a lot when you were young and innocent?"

"I did," she said, not taking the bait. "We could shoot some pool if you'd like."

He shrugged. He wasn't quite sure what Hilde was up to, but it seemed like a weird nostalgia trip at the very least.

Hilde got change at the bar and handed him some quarters. He took the hint and walked toward the closer of the two pool tables. The one furthest in the back was already in use. He quickly took stock of his surroundings and noticed the faded sign over the hallway leading to the rest rooms.

__

Lasciate ogni speranza voi ch'entrate.

A faint memory tugged at him, but he put it aside as he inserted the quarters and unhooked the triangle hanging under the table.

"You going to break?" Hilde asked as he finished racking the multi-colored balls.

"I'd say ladies first..." he began, only to receive a withering glance in return.

"Go for it, Maxwell," she said smoothly. "Loser buys the next round."

It was with good humor that he went to pay his debt at the end of their first game. He noticed a sign over the bar similar to the first one, this one a bit smaller to fit all three lines of verse. There seemed to be a theme here, but at the moment it escaped him.

__

Nel mezzo del cammin di nostra vita

mi ritrovai per una selva oscura,

ché la diritta via era smarrita.

His attention was diverted once again by a trio of boisterous young men all similarly dressed in T-shirts and loose fitting jeans. His eyes assessed them all quickly and wrote them off as being of no significance, although he supposed, from an aesthetic point of view, the dark-haired one was passably attractive.

Hilde commented on them as she racked for their second game. "What do you think, Duo? . Maybe I should see if it's true what they say about younger men. They're still at their sexual prime at that age, I hear." She glanced at him briefly. "Not that you've passed yours, of course, Duo."

"Of course."

It was oddly relaxing, to simply 'hang out' as he'd once done with those he'd considered friends at one point in his life. Now and then Hilde would seem to take brief notice of one man or another, and Duo didn't feel the slightest bit insulted. Not because they weren't together anymore, but because he realized he was doing the same thing. Hilde was one of three women in the bar at this hour, and she was by far the most attractive. If she were here with other women, he had no doubt she wouldn't need to buy her own drinks.

The no-smoking ban had yet to go into effect, so Duo suspected that he and Hilde would take their leave once the bar started to fill up and patrons took advantage of the remaining time they could indulge that vice in public places. Neither of them was overly fond of the heavy, clinging scent of cigarette smoke that they brought home on their clothes and in their hair.

The thought of having to wash the stench from his hair before going to bed made him groan inwardly.

That's when he noticed a different scent filling his nostrils. Not tobacco, certainly, but neither was it the sickly sweet odor of marijuana. It made him think of baked ham, and then it clicked.

Cloves.

His eyes drifted toward the source of the aroma.

A blond youth in a too-tight T-shirt had his back to Duo. His thumbs were hooked into the pockets of his baggy cargo shorts, the clove cigarette dangling from the fingertips of his right hand.

Duo allowed his eyes to quickly travel over the boy's frame, from the grungy backward baseball cap to the overpriced leather sandals before he turned his gaze back toward Hilde.

His brief perusal had noted a slender build and two tribal tattoos...one at the base of his neck and the other in a band circling his left biceps.

"Ever think of getting a tattoo, Duo?" Hilde asked conversationally. She'd obviously given the youth a once-over of her own.

"Yeah," he said derisively. "A big red heart made of flowers, right here," he tapped the outer edge of his left arm. "With a big pink ribbon that says MOM in black letters."

She started laughing.

"No, really," she said. "I've always wanted something like that."

"Which one?"

"Either."

Duo flicked his eyes at the tattoos again, but it was difficult to see much of the one hidden between tufts of hair and the shirt's crew neck.

"I mean the style. Something tribal like that. No colors - just black."

He nodded. He could see where it would appeal to Hilde - the intricacy of the designs unhindered by pretty colors, and yet even in monochrome, something that was full of meaning. "Where would you get it?"

She grinned at him. "Nowhere you'd be able to see it."

"I thought we were friends," he wheedled.

"If and when I ever decide to go through with it, Duo, I'll let you go with me to see what I pick out."

"You mean you'll drag me with you in case you chicken out. Don't you have any girlfriends to do the fem bonding with?"

"You're more fun, though."

Her words made Duo feel very warm indeed.

Duo's attention kept flicking toward the door whenever someone new came in, and it wasn't much later when a dark skinned man, one with a husky, muscular frame, joined the boy they'd noticed earlier. He was dressed in a dark shirt and slacks, striking the right balance between casual and sleekly elegant.

The younger man had turned to face the newcomer, and Duo could see tufts of blond hair framing his face, most of it poking through the back of the cap he was wearing. A couple of gold earrings winked at him from the boy's right ear.

Was this a lover's tryst? Duo tried to read their body language, but at present they weren't standing very close to each other. He'd always been curious about how gay men in a relationship acted in public. At least he had been since California.

Duo didn't care for the boy's choice of attire, but he had to concede the youth was attractive. His snug-fitting shirt proudly proclaimed he was a student at F.I.T. Most definitely gay, Duo decided.

His eyes flicked back toward the swarthy gentleman. Of a darker complexion than the college student, despite what appeared to be a spring break tan, the man had full, lush lips and a strong jaw line. His nose seemed slightly off center, most likely broken in the past, and his hair was darker than Wufei's.

Duo didn't doubt that this man didn't lack for attention in bed. The slightly crooked nose worked with the rest of his face, keeping him from looking too exotically beautiful.

An attractive man, Duo supposed, but not particularly his type. He supposed he must have a type. Didn't all men?

Hilde couldn't help noticing the way Duo kept checking out the two in the corner, just like he had done every time an attractive man walked into the bar. If she hadn't been watching Duo intently, she'd not have noticed, because he was careful not to stare too long.

Had he checked out other women this way when they were together?

An angsty rock song came on the jukebox, and a young couple got up to dance as soon as it started. Hilde supposed 'dancing' was a nice way of putting it. They seemed to be doing little more than groping one another. She and Duo exchanged disapproving glances.

Hilde noticed Duo once again indulging in a rather recent habit, and she met Duo's questioning glance with a tilt of her head toward the area designated as a dance floor.

He frowned slightly, and she gave him her best sly grin. Duo Maxwell hated to back down from a challenge.

She draped her arms over his shoulders and he put his hands on her waist awkwardly. Dancing had never been something Duo was fond of and she suspected he was regretting accepting her nonverbal dare.

She moved closer and his hands slid behind her in a loose embrace. She murmured into her ear, "give you any ideas?"

Duo snuck a few glances at the couple separated by only their clothing, practically dry humping in plain sight. It was damned disgusting, and he manuevered himself and Hilde so he was facing away from them. He noticed some movement near the door as an attractive young blonde entered the bar with two rather nondescript looking females. Most definitely not his type, he decided, although the blonde had the figure that most men preferred - big breasts, a tiny waist, and clothes to emphasize both. She said something to her companions and walked over to the gentleman in black. He seemed rather smug. The blond youth was nowhere in sight.

Duo couldn't help wondering if they'd had a spat, and again wondered if they were lovers. The younger one seemed to have no issue with maintaining appearances. Perhaps it was a matter of confessing how he felt, only to discover that the object of his affections was straight. He supposed that would be rather awkward, not to mention painful.

Hilde managed to turn them so she didn't have to stare at the groping couple any longer, and they were once again visible out of the corner of his eye. He smirked at the thought of the buxom blonde and the mystery man engaged in a similar act. Then he imagined what it might look like between the man and his previous companion.

Duo wondered what it would feel like if he were dancing with either of them instead of with Hilde, followed immediately by the thought of would feel like to do so with Heero. He snorted at the very idea.

"Not quite the same as when we were that age, is it?" Hilde said softly. He shook his head. Yet the two of them remained standing there, swaying together slightly, both lost in their own thoughts.

That last day with Heero, they'd not really done anything special, unless he counted all the extra attention Heero lavished on him when he least expected it. He thought he might like to feel Heero's body flush against him again, but he might be just as physically responsive with any man, if the right parts were stimulated. Or Hilde, if he wanted to tread down that path again. No, it was more than a physical attraction.

He'd tried to forget that day, but constant reminders plagued him. The smug look on the stranger's face reminded him of Heero. The young man's clove cigarette reminded him of Heero's abhorrence of drugs. The blonde bombshell's appearance reminded him of Janet and her damned purple Dodge theory. The Scrabble games with Hilde reminded him of things like macrophallus...

And was Hilde trying to cop a feel?

Thankfully he wasn't a teenager anymore, although he had felt a small glow of warmth in his belly as he'd remembered the extracurricular activities with Heero, especially with the rather amorous couple who were still trying to merge into one body, undeterred by the presence of others. It would have been rather embarrassing to surprise Hilde with something pressing against her thigh, but he was long past the stage where he was unable to control his urges in public. He suddenly realized what Hilde was up to and he pulled away, but not before it was too late.

She sat down as if nothing had happened. He sat across from her and waited.

"Look at me, Duo."

He could feel the tick in the side of his jaw as his lips clamped together tightly, but he knew she was holding all the cards this time. She leaned forward and peered into his eyes, studying them carefully.

"They're still the same old blue," she announced. "Not green, not brown, not purple, no magic eight ball."

She could be quite annoying when she wanted to.

"But perhaps they will be later?" With that, she brandished the item she'd removed from Duo's pocket.

He reached over and snatched the contact lens case from her as if afraid she'd indulge in a playground game of keep-away.

To his surprise, she said nothing more about it. He rubbed his thumb over the raised L before sliding it back into his pocket.

"You come here much when you were in college?" he asked smoothly, ignoring the fact that she'd pretty much answered that question earlier.

"Yeah," she said. "It was pretty cool. It had a hellfire and brimstone theme - like we're all doomed anyway, so why not go out in style. Very popular with the younger twenty-somethings."

"Hilde...you took Latin, didn't you?"

"Lived, breathed, ate, and drank it for a while. All I got out of it was a handful of decent proverbs and appreciation for Latin poetry. Catallus was one of my favorites, though," she replied. The braying laughter of one of the three college students who'd entered together earlier made her cringe and she flicked her eyes in their direction meaningfully. "For example, _risu inepto res ineptior nulla est_."

"Something about a donkey?" he guessed.

"You really are fun, Duo. 'Nothing is sillier than a silly laugh,' but you're close in spirit if not in meaning. Did you know that he had an affair with a woman named Clodia?"

"Him?" Duo blinked, then realized she was talking about the poet. "Oh, Catallus."

"Know what Catallus called her?"

"No, but I'm sure you'll tell me."

Her eyes twinkled in amusement. "Lesbia."

He ignored the implications of that bit of trivia. "How good are you at translating?"

"Depends. You have something in mind?"

"_Dum spiro, spero_," he said slowly.

Hilde's brows furrowed. "Damn it," she muttered. "I should know this one in my sleep. It's quite common." She uttered a few more expletives under her breath. "This is awful," she grumbled. "The harder I try, the more elusive it is. This is an easy one. It's like asking someone to remember what _s'il vous plaît_ means, for crying out loud."

A heated debate was going on at the bar. Several rather young bar patrons were pointing at the sign and arguing over what it meant.

The dark-haired gentleman that had caught Duo's attention earlier spoke. The blonde was no longer in his company. His deep voice held a trace of an accent, but Duo couldn't place it.

"_Nel mezzo del cammin di nostra vita mi ritrovai per una selva oscura, ché la diritta via era smarrita,_" he intoned. "The opening of Dante Alighieri's _Commedia_. Usually translated as 'Midway on our life's journey, I found myself in dark woods, the right road lost.'"

"Yeah!" one of the students nodded excitedly. "Now I remember. My older brother mentioned that other sign that used to be here."

Hilde and Duo both cast their glances toward the rest rooms. When they looked at each other again, Duo noticed that the man was no longer standing near the bar.

"'Abandon all hope, ye who enter here,'" Hilde murmured. "That sign used to be the first thing you saw when you walked in. It was always looked upon as some sort of dare." Her expression was slightly nostalgic, then her face lit up.

"Ah! That's it!"

"It?"

"Hope! How could I have forgotten? _Dum spiro, spero._ 'While I breathe, I hope.' Rather uplifting sentiment. A counterpoint to the sign over Dante's entrance to Hell."

While I breathe, I hope.

Duo's breath caught in his throat, and he exhaled slowly.

"Duo?"

He smiled at her. "I breathe."

tbc

I feel like one of those pre-adolescents who e-mail Adult Swim asking to have their "shout outs" posted, but after seeing some reviews of other stories, what the hell. They made me feel good.

Nods of appreciation for the following, all of whom have recently validated (or continued to validate) my opinion that 1x2 versus 2x1 is irrelevant, as long as they're together and they're both men! In alphabetical order because I'm anal that way: Asuka Kureru, Kagemihari, Link Worshiper, Merith, and Natea. I think this is where I blow kisses to you all using both hands. Er, yeah. Moving right along...

__

'Neesan - older sister

F.I.T. - Fashion Institute of Technology

Dante's Divine Comedy was apparently titled just "Comedy" and the "Divine" was later added.

Interesting thing I stumbled across in my search for the original Italian verbiage - Dante was quoted as saying: "Nothing which is harmonized by the bond of the Muses can be changed from its own to another language without having all its sweetness destroyed."

Fortunately for many of us, we've reaped the benefits of many a translated works, and perhaps nothing can ever capture the spirit the same way entirely, but imagine how much the monolingual among us would have missed out on!

Not that anyone particularly cares, but I used Robert Pinksy's translation of the opening of _Commedia_. Just in case anyone else saw it translated differently.

Yeah, this chapter was the reason I never translated "dum spiro, spero" back in chapter 49 (Transition Elements) - although I understand a good number of you didn't want to wait and went and googled it.

What else? If you were wondering, the etymology of "lesbian" does NOT come from Lesbia - it originates from the island of Lesbos in the Aegean Sea, where the poetess Sappho resided. Whether the nickname Lesbia was influenced by that...I'm too lazy to research any further...plus it's kinda funny to make up my own interpretation of why Catallus called his married lover by that name.

And apparently some of the poetry Catallus dedicated to Clodia were in the style of Sappho.


	64. And Kiss Your Wing

The Edulcoration of Duo Maxwell - 63/64 or 65?

Warnings: AU, yaoi, coarse language, violence, angst, cliffhangers, red herrings, mention of various vices, random bits of useless knowledge, occasionally explicit sex, enough footnotes to choke an army of horses.

Spoilers: Nah

Disclaimer: I don't really need to be Captain Obvious here, do I? No ownership, no money being made, yadda yadda. Written for fun, not profit.

Pairings to date: 2x1x2, 34, 4x3, 5M/5xM, 96, past 2xH, past 4x1

Archived at:   
http:www.atsui.org  
http:sweetlysour.net  
http:theforsakenwk.com  
http:www.gundam-wing-diaries.150m.com

Edulcorate (verb) - To free from harshness (as of attitude); to soften

Chapter 63 - And Kiss Your Wing

Noin set down her cup of coffee and sighed. "Yuy, don't get me wrong, but perhaps you need to get out more. I think you've been married to your computer lately. The glow from the monitor is starting to affect your complexion."

His glare told her how humorous he found that particular comment and he turned back to his screen, his index finger twitching furiously.

"That's a neat little computer," she commented. "I don't recall seeing it before. Is it new?"

Heero's finger hesitated slightly before he selected the audio file recorded the night before and looked at her pointedly. She sighed again and put the audio jack in her ear.

The two of them were in an outdoor cafe and Heero had brought his portable computer with them, as he wanted to review the results of his part of the investigation with her before she left for California later that day.

"For what it's worth," she said, after they'd both removed their ear jacks and he'd tucked them into the outer pocket of the leather tote, "I think you've made significant progress."

"I know," Heero sighed. "It's just..."

She leaned forward. "It's just...what?"

"Something seemed off," he said with a shrug. "Can't put my finger on it, but I want to tread very carefully."

"A hunch?"

"No," he frowned. "Not exactly. At least, I don't think so."

She nodded. The worst part of an investigation was knowing there was a missing piece out there somewhere. If they could get a better idea of the big picture, perhaps it would be easier, but at the moment they were still working with what seemed like a dozen unrelated bits of information, while knowing that they tied together somehow.

"I'd like to call in an outside consultant," he said, drumming his fingers on the table.

"You mean Quatre Winner."

"Yes."

"How about just pulling him in for questioning?"

"He's in California now," Heero said.

She leaned back in her chair. "You want me to do the honors?"

"I'd like you to conference me in..."

"But you're not sure of your availability just yet."

He didn't need to respond in the affirmative, as they both knew the answer to that.

She frowned at him. "There's more to it than that."

He gave another half shrug.

Noin studied him again. "I've still not figured out exactly what the story is between you and Quatre, Yuy. Do I want to?"

Again the answer to that question was obvious to both of them.

"What did Une say when you told her you weren't going to record the conversation between you and Khushrenada?"

Noin shifted a bit uncomfortably.

He took the hint immediately. "You know, Noin, that they are allowing you to speak with him for a reason. The whole point is to approach him as if it's not an interrogation."

"I know," she agreed.

"I know," he repeated.

They were both silent for a while. He slowly disassembled his mobile computer and tucked each component into its carrying case.

A teasing smile started to play about her lips. "Japanese technology, Heero?"

His eyes snapped to hers at once. "Only the best."

"So explain to me why you've needed me to cart your sorry ass to work the past two days."

"My mother wanted to put the Insight to the test," he said. "She refuses to believe it gets sixty miles per gallon unless she's put it to the test."

Noin laughed. "You're very much like your mother, Yuy. You don't trust anything that you've not verified yourself."

He hesitated slightly, then shrugged. "I trust _you_."

She reached a hand across the table and laid it across one of his, squeezing briefly, then releasing it.

"How was it, going home again?"

"It didn't hurt quite so much," he said cautiously. "But...I did not go into the backyard while I was there."

He hadn't been able to, but he'd decided that was ok for now. He'd extended his condolences to the Vargas family while he was there, despite his trepidation at doing so. He did find out where Kitty's final resting-place was, although he had no intentions of visiting it.

The brief visit with his parents was no different than it had been any other time, although they did seem to respect that he was more subdued than usual. He'd never suspected that they knew just how deep his friendship with Kitty had been, but perhaps he'd underestimated them.

He had gotten into a debate with his mother regarding the Honda Insight, however, and he'd agreed to let her borrow his car for a week. There was no way in hell he was going to assume responsibility for her car, so he refused to take it in trade. He'd managed perfectly well without a vehicle the entire time he was in Los Angeles; he supposed he'd do just as well in Elizabeth.

When his mother had dropped him off at his apartment, she'd put a hand on his leg just before he got out of the car.

He'd glanced at her questioningly, and she'd simply said, "it was good to see you again."

He'd noticed then the traces of gray in her hair and the faint lines around her eyes. Time marched on whether you were ready for it or not. "I expect a full report on the testing conditions," he said with a smile, and she nodded.

"You can count on it, _malcriado_," she'd said, humor showing in her eyes at his look of surprise.

Noin watched as her partner's expression softened slightly, and decided he'd be embarrassed to know he was looking wistful.

"Think you can handle having to put gas in a car more than once a month while I'm gone?"

He snorted, and she knew he was back in the present with her. "I am counting on you to take good care of her."

"Her? Does your car have a name, too?"

"I'll tell you that if you'll 'fess up about whether your Glock does. I saw you fondling it before your range test."

"Your mind is perpetually in the gutter, Noin. Perhaps you'd like an appointment with Hunter instead?"

"I see what I see, Yuy."

"What did you see?"

"I saw that my partner was just as good as he was before he took off for parts unknown." She winked at him. "But you're still not as good as I am. Although I'll give you this, Yuy, you're better with a sniper rifle than even Zechs was."

"But not better than you?"

She made a sound of exasperation. "Ya know, this is what always galled me. It's all about his results on a damned range. And it wasn't six out of six, it was three out of three, twice! Zechs," she snorted. "The whole 'six out of six' makes him sound like a gunslinger in the Old West. For the love of all that is holy, we used M16s, not Colt .45s. I mean Peacemakers. Oh, hell."

Heero couldn't help it. A subtle grin appeared on his face. "Colt 45, Noin? Giving up your Peroni for a smooth malt liquor? Or maybe..." he cocked his head slightly to the side and opened his eyes as wide as he could, "you're thinking of trading in your Glock for an MP firearm?"

"No, no," she waved her hand impatiently. "It was the answer to a trivia question on some game show. The movie, that is, not the beer. Did you even know there was a movie with that name?"

"No, but I know someone who probably does." The words tumbled out of Heero's mouth before he could stop them. To ward off any speculation on the part of his partner, he threw out something he knew would keep her focused on her current rant. "So, no nickname for you then?"

To his surprise, she looked a bit sheepish, and she mumbled something under her breath.

Heero decided to have pity on both of them and stood up. She followed suit and stretched, then reached into her pocket.

"My treat, Yuy, for taking care of my baby while I'm gone. Although I expect a full tank of gas when I get her back. And don't park her under any trees, unless you want to spring for a car wash, too."

"Think you'd even notice?"

"Dark colors fade over time," she shrugged. "So zip it. Now c'mon, make like my faithful sidekick and take me to the airport."

He was sorely tempted to point out that would make _him_ Agent "Ninety-noin" and _her_ Maxwell Smart, but he merely bowed his head briefly and accepted her keys as she offered them.

Although, he supposed, a little bit of 'chaos' and a small lack of 'control' might be a good thing once in a while.

* * *

As Duo waited in the conference room for Meiran's call, he admitted that he was nervous about seeing Quatre Winner again. Their last meeting was not something he was proud of for several reasons. 

However, he was not about to cower any longer. Personal feelings had no place in business, and although he and Wufei both had the utmost faith in Meiran, the fact remained that Duo preferred being personally involved with something of this magnitude.

It was also a first for their company, really. They didn't usually retain a business for long. To actually start over, like they had with their own firm, was exciting. The feelings of trepidation regarding the risks involved with such a venture weren't enough to dampen the enthusiasm he'd felt when he'd read the entire report.

In the conference room of the Los Angeles office, Meiran Long cast a glance at Quatre Winner, who seemed a bit uncomfortable. "Something you want to share with me?" she asked gently.

He shook his head, shoving his hands into his pockets to avoid twiddling his thumbs or worrying at a button or providing a half dozen other tells to his mental state.

"Men," she said with a shake of her head. "You all try too hard to fool yourselves that nothing is wrong. It's none of my business, really." She gave Quatre a long, hard look. "I just have one question for you. It's a bit personal, so you don't have to answer it if you don't want to."

Quatre swallowed nervously, almost wincing in anticipation.

She checked the television to insure the camera was aimed toward the conference table, then reached over to the speaker phone in the center of the table and pressed the appropriate button to dial the room where Duo was waiting for their call.

"Are you wearing any makeup?"

Quatre was so surprised by that question, he almost missed when Duo Maxwell's voice answered after the second ring.

"Show time," Meiran stage whispered, then she changed the video reception from their conference room to Duo's.

Both Quatre and Duo knew the importance of body language and facial expressions, which is why the teleconferencing with video was desirable for most of the interstate communications. It was far easier to tell when someone was stalling if you could pick up the subtle signs in posture, or look for facial tics.

It didn't make it any easier for either of them to make eye contact, even across a connection of fiber optic cables and electron beams, but they did so.

The meeting was more a formality than anything else, as Milliardo Peacecraft was currently meeting with Wufei regarding the sale of the pharmaceutical division still currently held by the Peacecraft Corporation.

In the end, though, both Duo and Quatre knew that their working relationship underwent a subtle shift. Instead of remembering the embarrassment of their last meeting, they quickly brainstormed several money-saving ideas, with Meiran wisely choosing to remain unnoticed - this time.

Once they'd laid out a few ideas that needed some follow-up, Meiran took her 'to-do' list and excused herself, leaving her employers to wrap things up on their own.

Duo cleared his throat. "I'd like to apologize," he began.

Quatre shook his head. "An apology is unnecessary. I understand."

"No," Duo said firmly. "Regardless of whether you do or not, my actions were uncalled for, and I owe you, and your...Trowa, an apology."

Quatre hoped the warmth in his face did not indicate that he was blushing. "Your apology is accepted. I'm sure my...I'm sure Trowa would say the same."

Duo took the plunge, before he chickened out. "Have you spoken to him recently?"

Now Quatre was almost positive he was at least a bit flushed, and he forced himself to think rationally before he responded. Which was a good thing, as he realized that Duo was referring to Heero.

Cautiously, he said, "what answer are you hoping to hear, Duo?"

Duo gave it some thought. Would he feel better, if he knew Quatre hadn't had any more contact with Heero since he'd left for wherever it was that he went? Or would he feel better at least knowing that Heero was alive and well?

He wasn't worried about Heero, really, it was more of a...he wasn't sure what it was.

"I want to know that he's doing alright."

"I'm sure he's fine, Duo."

He supposed that answer, deliberately ambiguous as it was, was probably the safest one for right now.

Damn it, he didn't want safe. Safe was boring; safe was closing one's self off. He and Wufei got where they were today by taking risks when the situation called for it.

He wanted to take a risk. After all, he had hope, didn't he?

"Quatre," he said, clinging to that hope. "Does he know about our...partnership?"

The reply was immediate. "Yes. In fact," he added, suspecting this next part was important to Duo, "I didn't tell him. He figured it out on his own and mentioned it to me, the night before he left."

That meant that Heero knew that the two of them would be in contact with each other. That meant it was perfectly acceptable for Duo to ask Quatre the next question.

"How can I reach him?"

* * *

After their phone call was disconnected, Quatre folded his hands and rested his chin on his thumbs. He was still sitting there when Meiran poked her head in the door. 

"Did I miss anything I need to know about?"

Quatre stood up. "No."

She nodded, content with the fact that he seemed much less tense than he had been before they'd called Duo. Sometimes she was tempted to smack sense into all of them, but the only way for any of them to come to terms with what ailed them was to face it when they were ready.

"Meiran," Quatre said, as the two of them left the room. "I'm curious about something."

"Hmm?"

"What was with the question about makeup earlier?"

Duo stared at the number he'd programmed into his cell phone. Eleven digits. Just eleven digits. And now with one touch of a button, his phone could dial all eleven digits and connect him.

His thumb rubbed the button, wanting to make the call, but knowing this was not the time nor the place. After all this time, he was not going to do something rash again. He'd left his meeting with Peacecraft back in California only to return to an empty hotel room. He'd barged in on Quatre Winner and his friend Trowa, and he was still too late.

This wasn't the same thing. Heero had given the number to Quatre as a means of contacting him. He would wait until that evening to use it. He was nervous enough as it was. Duo was not about to act like an obsessed teenager calling to ask for a first date.

He hesitated before shutting off the phone, afraid if he did so, the number wouldn't be there when he turned it back on. He told himself he was being ridiculous. Even if that did happen, he could ask Quatre for it again.

His stomach growled, reminding him he'd been unable to eat much that morning, worried as he was about the teleconference with Quatre. He'd go out to lunch. That meant that he'd have to leave the phone on. He slid it into his pocket.

After he'd reached his car, he rethought the wisdom of his decision. Duo decided that perhaps a good compromise would be going out to pick up a sandwich, then bringing it back. He'd have some time away from the office to clear his head, but not long enough that he'd start thinking too much.

It seemed he'd already started thinking too much, however, because as he paid for his sandwich at the quick mart known for its deli sandwiches, he saw no fewer than three different men who all bore a passing resemblance Heero in one way or another. One was grumbling about the weekend weather forecast as he paid for his newspaper, one was a panhandler leaning idly against a lamppost as Duo drove by, and one was using one of the gas pumps visible outside the deli mart.

He'd be glad when the day was over. He reached into his jacket pocket and touched the phone again.

* * *

Noin stretched out her legs the best she could in her economy class seat. She felt naked without her Glock. It had been different the last time she went to California. Then she'd gone for personal reasons. Of course seeing Zechs was never an easy thing. At least she had her cell phone. It was something that helped make her feel less cutoff from those around her. She felt bad for her partner, who was stuck going out without his weapon or his phone, even if he were far less social than she. He'd never been the most patient person, not that he couldn't be. He had the ability to demonstrate patience, but he despised waiting for results. 

She supposed she might have been nicer and not teased him about his hair, but it served him right after the remark he'd made to her earlier. He bristled the most on the ride to the airport when she'd asked if he were wearing cosmetics. He'd practically growled at the suggestion, then muttered something about how he'd better get what he needed from the investigation within the next three days, as after that some of the temporary changes would need retouching lest they loose their appearance of authenticity. He was not thrilled with the extra work required to maintain as much of his normal appearance in the office as it was, and he'd scowled when she'd teasingly suggested a wig.

She'd know Yuy for more than a few years now, and she'd never worked with a more competent partner. He was sharp, granted, or he'd never have made it as a Special Agent. Damned good with computers, again no surprise there, coming from his previous assignment in the I.T. department. Calm in a crisis, and calm after a crisis. Two very different things.

There had been vague little hints, lately, though. Subtle, fleeting shifts of mood that she'd chalked up to his grieving over Kitty. Yet he'd verbally adopted her as his older sister without balking once. She knew that Kitty viewed Heero as her '_oniisan_,' so she'd been surprised as hell to hear him call her '_neesan_.' That was pretty much the extent of the Japanese she knew, other than some rather creative insults that Heero used under his breath at times when a witness or suspect was being particularly uncooperative.

Her knowledge of Italian made it fairly easy for her to follow a Spanish reasonably well, a second language that was invaluable when investigating drug trafficking coming from South America or Mexico. Heero was fluent in it, but she was better at following a conversation than speaking it herself.

It was one of the games they'd played with the agents in Buffalo, coming up with different scenarios for creative use of foreign languages in the most outrageous contexts, where Heero surprised everyone. He was damned good at it, and no one expected that from the agent who always looked so serious.

There was a lot of talent hidden beneath his often inscrutable expression. If she'd met Yuy at boot camp, rather than Zechs, she wondered if they'd ever have forged a romantic relationship, given enough time. Heero was loyal, intelligent, compassionate, and exceedingly easy on the eyes.

In all the time she'd known him, Noin didn't think Yuy had ever been in a romantic relationship. He didn't trust many people to get that close to him. He'd not ever shown signs that he...

Oh, Yuy, you sly dog, you.

Her partner was very good at keeping things under wraps, if one didn't know him. She knew Heero Yuy quite well. It had taken her a while, but now those little things came together with an almost audible click.

Her partner was in love.

Just knowing that made her feel better about her own upcoming meeting with the man who'd captured her heart long ago.

An imperfect love, eh, Yuy? She laughed softly as the plane taxied down the runway and lifted off.

* * *

Wufei called Meiran after lunch to let her know that they'd received a few bids for the pharmaceutical division. She turned on the speakerphone and Quatre downloaded the information being sent from California. 

"What do you think, Quatre?" Meiran asked.

"Honestly," he said, glancing over the names, "we'd benefit the most from accepting the offer from Romefeller."

"They're not offering the most money," Wufei pointed out.

"I understand that," Quatre said. "However, I think that there's more than a financial benefit to consider."

Milliardo's voice was clipped as he bluntly stated, "I refuse to have any dealings with that corporation."

"I'm sorry to point this out, Milliardo," Quatre replied gently. "But when we entered into the agreement, that division became a jointly owned possession, and your personal preferences can be overruled if the majority votes otherwise."

"I'd like to hear both sides," Meiran interjected. "I don't have a ruling vote one way or another, but you might as well present your arguments now. It will give you time to sort out your thoughts and debate the pros and cons." She glanced at the clock. "And Duo should still be in the office. Please hold, gentlemen, while I connect him."

And so the rest of Duo's day was spent participating in a debate regarding ethics, financial rewards, and any potential backlash from allowing or refusing Duke Dermail possession of the pharmaceutical division.

Until Wufei suggested offering it to Treize Khushrenada.

tbc

* * *

Chapter title is an excerpt from the poem _Ode to a Dead Pigeon_ by Jack Micheline: "I bend down on my knees in the sunlit morning and kiss your wing, grey and white, gleaming in the sun." 

Colt 45 - malt liquor hawked by Billy Dee Williams once upon a time - "smoooooth." Colt does make a .45 pistol, the M1911/M1911A, which has a seven round capacity with one in the chamber. I've found some references that indicate its been the preferred sidearm for US soldiers for some time, but most information I've found on US military firearms (without leaving my house) has been for rifles - so don't quote me!

The Peacemaker® - Colt's Single Action Army (SAA) revolver - made its debut in 1873 and still has six rounds.

The Insight is Honda's hybrid electric/gasoline powered vehicle - and as they say, "no, you don't need to plug it in."

For those unfamiliar with the US television show _Get Smart_, Don Adams played the rather inept Maxwell Smart (Agent 86) and Barbara Feldon was the more levelheaded Agent 99. The two were CONTROL agents fighting the evil KAOS. Not sure about those of you watched (or watch) the show - but the shoe phone will always be the first image to come to mind when I hear any reference to Maxwell Smart...and no, I don't picture Cro-Magnon Duo insisting on his intelligence with those two words.


	65. Recompense

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The Edulcoration of Duo Maxwell - 64/?

Warnings: AU, yaoi, coarse language, violence, angst, cliffhangers, red herrings, mention of various vices, random bits of useless knowledge, nonexplicit male/male sex, enough footnotes to choke an army of horses.

Spoilers: Nah

Disclaimer: I don't really need to be Captain Obvious here, do I? No ownership, no money being made, yadda yadda. Written for fun, not profit.

Pairings to date: 2x1x2, 34, 4x3, 5M/5xM, 96, past 2xH, past 4x1

Archived at:  
http : www . atsui . org  
http : sweetlysour . net  
http : theforsakenwk . com  
http : www . gundam-wing-diaries . 150m . com

__

Edulcorate (verb) - To free from harshness (as of attitude); to soften

* * *

****

Chapter 64 - Recompense

"I'm not a perfect person. There's many things I wish I didn't do, but I continue learning..." _The Reason_, Hoobastank

* * *

"Zodiac," Duo repeated, dumbfounded.

"Yes." Wufei's eyes met his, meaning they were really fixed on the video camera. Duo couldn't look away at first. When he did, he glanced at Meiran, who seemed both pleased and proud at the suggestion.

He'd obviously missed something.

"No."

That response came from Milliardo Peacecraft.

Quatre Winner, who was looking at Wufei speculatively, turned his eyes to the habitually argumentative executive in their midst.

"Would you care to elaborate on your reasons for refusing to consider Zodiac as a potential candidate?"

Quatre himself was quite curious, considering the suggested corporation was not one of the bidders. He thought it best to address Milliardo's concerns before putting Wufei on the spot.

"No, I would not."

Quatre glanced at Duo, who was sitting in a conference room by himself, watching the rest of them on a television screen much like the one his image was displayed on.

His expression, Quatre decided, was definitely intrigued.

"In that case," Quatre said carefully, "perhaps you'll allow me to present what I know about Zodiac."

He looked around the room briefly. Meiran's eyes were sparkling with excitement, Milliardo's expression was closed off, Wufei's was proud and defiant. Duo had propped his chin on his folded hands and was waiting. He gave a slight nod to Quatre.

"Zodiac was founded by Duke Dermail," he began, "who, coincidentally, is on Romefeller's board of directors. Since he stepped down at Zodiac and Treize Khushrenada took over the reins, the stocks have shown a rather consistent market value, after an impressive-"

"Winner," Milliardo said tiredly. "You're focusing too much on the financial part of the picture."

"I see," Quatre said. "Should I review the ethics demonstrated by Zodiac, compared to the known business practices and environmental concerns of the others?"

"Zodiac is ISO14000 certified," Duo supplied helpfully. "I believe they are one of the few who voluntarily pursued that."

Quatre nodded. "I believe so."

Wufei and Milliardo seemed to have a silent battle of wills going on, one that seemed to amuse Meiran. She caught Quatre looking at her and winked at him, then gave him a nod of encouragement.

"Gentlemen," he said. "It seems that we are making more of this issue than we need to."

All eyes were on him, and he spoke unwaveringly, gaining courage from what he was about to say.

"We need to remember that the reason we created Sanquhar was to move forward, to look to the future. Dwelling on what has happened in the past is fruitless. All we can do is use our past experiences, positive and negative, to make an informed assessment of those whose paths intersect ours now and in the future.

"The monetary value of the pharmaceutical division aside, as that aspect is the easiest to look at objectively, we should consider whether we make a stronger ally by offering it to Zodiac, or a stronger enemy of Romefeller by doing the same. I personally would prefer knowing that I did not hand over the tools for warfare, metaphorically speaking, to someone with a thirst for power that overcomes good sense.

"So the question is, from what we know of Zodiac, or Treize Khushrenada, or Duke Dermail and Romefeller, or any of these others who have expressed an interest, how do we know if we're doing the right thing?"

No one said anything for a while. Milliardo got up and walked to the window, turning his back on everyone else.

Wufei said quietly, "I believe that Khushrenada is the most likely to use the acquisition wisely."

"Do you fear repercussions from Dermail as a result?"

"I do not," Duo said quietly. "Fear is the bastard child of a lack of information and mistrust."

Meiran had moved to stand next to Wufei, the back of her hand brushing his in a silent show of support. Now was the time to let her husband demonstrate his ability to move forward; if Wufei trusted Treize Khushrenada, then so did she. The fact that he'd volunteered Khushrenada's name had made her heart swell with pride.

Milliardo Peacecraft could feel the tic in his jaw from keeping his teeth clamped tightly. He thought of his breakfast meeting with Dorothy Catalonia and of the way Treize had offered to lend legal support when he had his meeting scheduled with Romefeller.

"We should offer it to Zodiac," he said, keeping his back to the room, "but they may have no need for it."

"They don't need it," Duo's voice came over the speakerphone, and Quatre turned to the television again to see the look of steely determination on his face. "But that doesn't mean they might not want it anyway."

* * *

Quatre took a deep breath before getting out of the car. He could do this. As Meiran had told him, all the while looking disappointed that he'd missed the symbolism of her words, sometimes it was appropriate to wear a painted smile. Then she'd all but patted him on the shoulder as she assured him that she was confident that Quatre would know when he needed to conceal his battle scars and when to let someone see them and tend to them.

Then for some reason she started laughing, and he knew there was some sort of private joke behind her words, but he didn't dare ask for clarification.

He'd never hidden anything from Trowa, and he realized almost too late that the reverse was true as well. In fact, he was sure that he was one of the few people that Trowa was open with.

It made him feel guilty, the way he'd been receptive to everything except what Trowa was offering him.

He could feel the perspiration trickle down his neck and under his collar. He should have worn something more casual, but he'd wanted to look - he wasn't sure. Professional, competent, altogether different from what he'd been when Trowa...when Trowa...

When Trowa had gotten to know him. When Trowa had learned to respect him. When Trowa had given him the honor of considering him a best friend.

He supposed it didn't much matter, as he didn't want to spare any time to change his clothes, even if he'd had anything else to wear. He'd excused himself after the Sanq meeting and driven here at once.

Where it all began.

He got out of the car and started walking.

* * *

"Lucrezia Noin," Treize said, taking her hand in a firm handshake. "It has been a while."

"Yes," she agreed. "I appreciate your taking the time out of your day to see me."

"Always a pleasure." He waved a hand to indicate it was of no bother, and gestured to a chair.

"I assume you know that I'm not here for personal reasons, really," she said, taking a seat.

He sat behind his desk and picked up a paperweight, giving the appearance of examining it carefully, watching her expression over the object in his hands as he did so.

"You asked if I would mind giving you my opinion of Duke Dermail. This is not as a favor to a friend?"

Noin had always had a great amount of respect for Treize, back when she and Zechs first got involved. He'd always been the perfect gentleman, yet never treated her like a damsel in distress. He struck just the right balance, and Noin never wondered why he was so good at his job. He knew how to play an audience.

She wondered if she were going to be played as well.

"Duke Dermail has a granddaughter. You are aware of this?"

"Yes. Dorothy Catalonia."

"Would you say, from the information you possess, that Dermail and Miss Catalonia are on good terms?"

"There's no information that would lead me to the contrary."

Treize ran his fingers over the paperweight. "Have you spoken with Milliardo lately?"

She'd known he was going to play her like a fiddle, and he was in control of how long each note was held, but she managed to avoid sighing before responding. "Our paths crossed a couple of months ago."

"Do you ever plan on having children, Lucrezia?"

Treize had never used her first name, not since he'd realized she preferred to be addressed by her surname instead, a quirk she'd picked up in the military. The fact that he did so now meant he either wanted to exert his knowledge of that pet peeve, which would gain him little, or that he wanted to impress upon her the importance of what he was asking.

"I think it's appropriate to be married first," she said cautiously.

"So then you do plan to have children."

"I...I suppose, perhaps. I don't know. My job...I enjoy what I do, Treize. I cannot see myself raising a child with the hours I keep, nor can I see myself staying at home to become June Cleaver. There is more to raising a child than a single night of reckless passion." She clamped her lips together. The only person with whom she could even think of discussing such a thing, without being emotionally involved, that is, was working undercover on the opposite coast. The only person with whom she might possibly consider having this discussion with was right here in Los Angeles, and she wasn't sure she'd ever be ready to hear his views on the subject.

The last thing she needed was Zechs attempting to convert her into the Happy Homemaker. Not all women wanted to have children, and she had no desire to be thought of as little more than a broodmare.

"Do you suppose being a parent is the only way that someone feels loyalty for another human being?"

"Of course not." She'd lay down her life for Yuy if need be. She'd do the same for Zechs, no matter how much of an arrogant prick he was.

"Loyalty often must be earned," Treize said, nodding sagely. "What about responsibility?"

"Responsibility?"

"Do you suppose that one must be a parent to feel responsible for the well-being of another? Not as partners," he clarified. "As someone who relies on you as their primary caregiver, as their role model."

She thought of Zechs and Relena, and shook her head. "No."

Treize set the paperweight down, deliberately turning it so the side that had been away from Noin was now facing her.

Inside the smooth marble was a small photograph of a young girl. She was smiling, looking both precociously smug and genuinely happy. She thought an expression like that would be right at home on her partner's face.

"My daughter, Mariemeia," he said. He offered no other explanation, just looked at her expectantly.

Dermail and Dorothy. Zechs and Relena. Treize and Mariemeia.

She stood up, and he followed suit. She extended her hand.

"Thank you for your time, Treize."

As she reached the door, he said quietly, "remember what I told you, Lucrezia, about loyalty."

"I will," she said, and with that, she slipped out into the lobby. She could hear the phone ringing in his office as she closed the door behind her.

* * *

The seller was damned careful, much to Heero's dismay. He was going to need to be just a little more patient. He had to maintain the facade they'd created for him. He didn't want to be just a witness to a deal; that could too easily be dismissed. He needed to have it offered to him, if he wanted any audio that would be admissible in court.

Recorded transactions were always damned tricky in the first place, and Heero sometimes tired of the laws that often seemed determined to let guilty men walk free, and the lawyers who cheerfully allowed them to.

He impatiently hit the button on his monitor. He had an appointment with Hunter that had to be scheduled earlier than usual in order to accommodate his new assignment, and he didn't want to be late. He despised tardiness in others, and he didn't want the doctor to read anything into his actions should he arrive after his scheduled time.

Hunter was ready to see him immediately, and Heero only briefly lamented the loss of time to gather his thoughts before striding into the room. There was nothing he could do about it now, and sometimes it was the waiting that was the hardest part.

As he expressed to the psychologist when asked how his investigation was going.

"Do you consider yourself a patient man, Heero?"

"I consider myself capable of exercising patience when the situation calls for it."

Hunter nodded. Heero thought that he could perhaps write a program that could do the same thing. Spew a few questions from a list, make the appropriate acknowledgements, and in general, let Heero type in his own responses and draw his own conclusions. Or maybe something that used voice input, just so the computer could better mimic a human audience. It could even use the varying wavelengths of his voice pattern and extrapolate from there.

He'd definitely spent far too much time trying to look for signs of evasion or guilt in the last few recordings he'd listened to.

"I'd like to try something different today, Heero."

Sometimes Heero almost suspected the doctor could read his mind, because today he was expected to write a letter.

"It can be to anyone, about anything. I think you need to take your thoughts and make sense of them."

Heero looked skeptical. Hunter said, quietly, "no one, Heero, will ever read it. Not I, not the person you write it to. When you're done, if you choose, you can destroy it. But I believe this exercise is necessary." He chose his next words carefully. "I need to justify the end of our sessions somehow, Agent Yuy. Work with me."

The reward of freedom, freedom from having his thoughts and feelings analyzed, was enough to gain Heero's agreement.

Before Hunter left him alone in the room, he paused in the doorway. "No video surveillance will be used without your prior authorization," he said, then closed the door behind him.

Heero looked at the stack of white paper on the desk near him, and the selection of writing implements. Pens, pencils, felt tip markers.

He stood up, took the few steps needed to reach the desk, and ran a hand over the back of the chair before seating himself. He slid a sheet of paper from the stack and picked up a pencil.

He'd barely placed the tip on the paper when he frowned, set the pencil back down, and mulled over the selection of pens available. He selected a vibrant color, something that looked as though it would easily glide across the paper, and wrote his first word.

__

Duo.

* * *

Quatre knew he really shouldn't be here, at least not for another couple of months, when he'd be old enough to enter legally. The last thing he wanted was to cause Trowa more grief than he already had.

He squared his shoulders, put his hand on the knob, and opened the door, which was unlocked, despite the fact that he knew for a fact the bar was closed until later that evening.

He didn't know why he'd expected the interior to look different. It was exactly as he'd remembered it. His gaze took in the fact that the place was empty, as he'd expected. Thankfully this was not one of the days the bar opened early for breakfast.

He slowly turned his head toward the bar, and saw Trowa sitting on the counter, his palms flat on either side of him, his fingers gripping the curved edge slightly.

"Lock the door," Trowa said. "Please."

He fumbled a few times as he reached for the doorknob, then turned and locked it. When he turned back around, Trowa was standing not three feet from the door.

"I don't usually come here early anymore," he said. "But this week I thought perhaps I should."

Their proximity felt a bit stifling, and Quatre licked his lips nervously. Trowa nodded again and walked behind the bar, filling two glasses with ice and placing them on the counter.

His thumb activated the button on the water nozzle, and a light mist of water covered his hand as the spray hit the ice cubes. He replaced the water hose and slid one glass to the edge of the bar before taking a sip from his own.

Quatre picked up the glass and was tempted to hold it against his forehead in an effort to calm his racing heartbeat. Trowa said nothing, simply waited, and sipped.

Each time he swallowed, Quatre's eyes watched his Adam's apple bob, watched Trowa's lips as they pulled away from the rim of the glass. This was Trowa, for god's sake, what the hell was the problem?

"Trowa, I've been doing a lot of thinking," he said, making eye contact briefly before studying the contents of the glass in his hand. "I wanted to apologize."

He took a deep breath. "I am sorry for...a lot of things. For saying the wrong thing, doing the wrong thing, and in general, being blind to a lot of things."

Trowa continued to sip at his water, letting Quatre have the floor.

"And...I thought a lot about that day, and what you told me on the phone." Another glance at the brunet showed he was listening intently, although a casual observer might not get that impression. But Quatre was not a casual observer.

Trowa was just as nervous, he realized. It gave him the courage to drain his water in one gulp and slam the glass on the countertop.

He walked around to the other side of the bar and removed the water from Trowa's hand, setting it down just as firmly.

"When I told my father I was gay," he said, "I had this whole speech prepared in my head, and in the end, I just blurted it out. When I went home to Henderson, I had a completely different speech prepared for my family, and again, all my carefully prepared words went out the window and I spoke from the heart instead."

Quatre placed one hand along Trowa's jaw line, and pressed their foreheads together. This was the feeling of coming home, he acknowledged. It had never been the bar or the patrons. It had always been right in front of him the whole time.

"I love you, Trowa," he said, then leaned in and kissed him.

He swallowed the breath Trowa had been holding, and deepened their kiss with all the pent up passion he'd been keeping in check since the first and only time he'd slept with Heero.

This time Heero was not going to come between them, intentionally or otherwise. His feelings for the two men could not compare, as he'd hinted to Heero on the phone the other day, and then Trowa moaned his name and his former roommate was the last thing on his mind.

Kissing was definitely much more intimate than sex, and kissing Trowa was unlike anything he'd ever shared with another living soul.

There was more between them than lust, far more than simple friendship.

Trowa's hands were in his hair, and he was returning the kiss wildly, his breathing jagged and his tongue wrapped around Quatre's as much as was possible.

"Quatre," he said between breaths. "Quatre."

Trowa couldn't manage more than that, because every time he managed to get that much out, those lips were still there, still tempting as ever, and they were _his_, damn it. Not Heero's, not anyone else's.

He groaned Quatre's name several more times, his hands alternating between fisting themselves in the blond hair and running down Quatre's spine. When he felt a pair of hands cup his buttocks and pull him forward, he tilted his head back and allowed his neck to be ravaged by an overeager mouth.

"Trowa," Quatre whispered huskily. "Trowa, I love you. God, I was so blind, Trowa."

The jacket was slipped off Quatre's shoulders and it fell to his elbows. He removed one hand at a time from Trowa's hips, letting it drop to the floor.

"I want you, Quatre," Trowa said against the pulse of his neck. "I've always wanted you."

There was no place soft and even remotely comfortable in the entire bar, but Quatre was afraid to deny Trowa this. He'd withheld so much already. If he thought about it too much, he'd tense up, and that wouldn't help matters.

"Trowa," he said, his voice thick. He didn't know what his pleading tone was trying to convey, but the thought of withholding anything from Trowa at this point was incomprehensible.

His shirt was unbuttoned between kisses, and the brush of Trowa's bangs against his bare skin brought forth a bevy of goose bumps.

The hair continued to tease his skin as more flesh was revealed, the shirt untucked, the pants unfastened. Quatre leaned back against the bar, noting thankfully that the tap handles were a good foot away and not digging into his spine.

Trowa's breath was at his groin, and Quatre arched his back as Trowa's intentions became clear. His fingers buried themselves into the brown locks, and he could feel a slight crunch as they clutched desperately, convulsively, in Trowa's hair. His hips bucked.

"Trowa..." Quatre's voice was slightly garbled. Trowa acknowledged the warning with a low humming noise, and if he minded the tug to his scalp, he didn't stop until Quatre's body slumped a bit, sated.

Quatre was still leaning against the bar, wincing slightly as Trowa used the water nozzle to spray inside his mouth, rinsing and then spitting.

Before he could determine how he felt about that, Trowa's mouth met his again, and Quatre could feel the warmth contrasting with the cold water, as well as the lust and barely contained hunger, before Trowa reluctantly pulled back. He wrapped his arms around Quatre and rested his chin on the blond's shoulder.

"Quatre," he sighed, his heartbeat erratic. Quatre's arms came up behind him, his fingertips digging into Trowa's shoulders. Several deep breaths later, Trowa had managed to get both his heart rate and his raging hard-on under control.

"I'm sorry, Quatre," he said, his voice muffled by the expensive shirt half hanging off the other man. "I didn't mean to do that." He looked into Quatre's eyes and removed one arm enough to tuck some of the mussed blond hair behind one ear. "It's not just about the sex - it's never been just about the sex, and I don't view you as a possession, despite my rather proprietary actions. It's just that I've waited so long...I feel like I want to sample it all."

Quatre's mind quickly processed everything, slotting actions and words into their places.

"Maybe I don't always want to be a dog traveling with good men," he murmured, his eyes taking in every feature of Trowa's face, from the shape of his brows to the depths of emotion in his eyes to that surprisingly eager mouth. He moved his hand to trace his fingers along one cheekbone, down to the chin, and along the jaw until he reached Trowa's ear.

He frowned as Trowa started to laugh softly.

"What?"

"It tastes horrible," Trowa said, his shoulders shaking with mirth.

Quatre stared at him in disbelief, then his lips curled up and his laughter joined Trowa's. "It does, doesn't it?" he chuckled. "The trick is to avoid contact with your taste buds."

"Mmm," Trowa said as he nuzzled Quatre's neck, just below his earlobe. "Perhaps I'll have to learn to deep throat, then."

Quatre just laughed harder.

tbc

* * *

ISO14000 - the International Organization for Standards is better known for ISO9000, a series of quality standards, but ISO14000 is a set of standards applied to environmental management.

In case you've forgotten the Arabic proverb Quatre is referring to: "A wise man associating with the vicious becomes an idiot; a dog traveling with good men becomes a rational being."

Proud Member of SDHE, damn it.


	66. Cat's Cradle

The Edulcoration of Duo Maxwell - 65/?

Warnings: AU, yaoi, coarse language, violence, angst, cliffhangers, red herrings, mention of various vices, random bits of useless knowledge, occasionally explicit sex, enough footnotes to choke an army of horses.

Spoilers: Nah

Disclaimer: I don't really need to be Captain Obvious here, do I? No ownership, no money being made, yadda yadda. Written for fun, not profit.

Pairings to date: 2x1x2, 34, 4x3, 5M/5xM, 96, past 2xH, past 4x1

Archived at:   
http : www . atsui . org  
http : sweetlysour . net  
http : theforsakenwk . com  
http : www.gundam-wing-diaries . 150m . com

Edulcorate (verb) - To free from harshness (as of attitude); to soften

Chapter 65 - Cat's Cradle

"Was it everything you wanted to find, and did you miss me while you were looking for yourself out there?" - _Drops of Jupiter_, Train

* * *

Duo, Heero wrote.

There is much I wish to say to you, and I cling to the hope that I will someday have the opportunity to do so. It is hope, is it not, that makes us continue to fight?

I've never known anyone like you, Duo. For the first time since Kitty died, there was someone who intrigued me, who made me want to see what lay beneath the surface, and not because of my job.

That's not to say that I don't care for Quatre, Duo, because I do, and I hope that is acceptable to you. However, Quatre, for all his ability to bullshit, was always open and honest with me. There was never any challenge there, and I know how much you appreciate a challenge.

Perhaps, Duo, if things were different, I may have been able to love Quatre. I suppose...I should confess to you that I do love him, actually. I debate the wisdom of sharing that with you, but I think it is necessary that you know the extent of my feelings toward him, as I am aware that you two have already met, and in fact, will be working together from time to time. I do not wish for there to be any misunderstandings between us, Duo. Not of this magnitude.

Have you ever played the child's game 'cat's cradle,' Duo? I think it is a fitting metaphor for the paths I've taken in life.

I do love Quatre, Duo, and I am not sorry for that. Love is not a word I use out of convenience, and Quatre and I will always be close. That may affect another person, as well, but he already knows that I'm not in love with Quatre. I'm not, you know. I'm slowly accepting that the heart does indeed have the capacity of loving many, and maybe it is capable of boundless love. However, I am a firm believer in dedication and fidelity. It seems contrary to believe, with honesty, that you can be 'in love' with more than one person at the same time. Not when being in love means so much more than a physical attraction and mutual respect. Love is all that and more than can be expressed in mere words, no matter what language one uses to attempt to do so.

There's an expression that the heart never varies...I don't believe that is true for all people, but then, neither do I believe that falling in love is something that happens on the spur of the moment.

You asked me once what I did believe in, Duo, and I told you I believed in myself.

I told you I was lost, and although you were asleep at the time, I think you knew that. Now that I've found my path again, I think I'd like to...no, there's no 'thinking' here. I know. I know what I want, and I have for quite some time. It completely contradicts what I said earlier about spur of the moment emotions, but I also said that I've never met anyone quite like you.

I want to take the next steps on the road of life with you, by your side, shoulder to shoulder.

Kitty once accused me of being a romantic. She would have liked you a lot, Duo.

I don't know that I believe she is somewhere in the afterlife, laughing at me now. I don't know if I believe you and I were fated to meet. There are more things in life that I don't know than I can ever hope to fully understand and believe in, but I will never regret what we had together, regardless of the circumstances. From the beginning it was so much more than what it should have been, and, unless my heart is wrong, you knew it, too.

And although I am sorry for forcing you to face a few things, perhaps not using the kindest or most considerate tactics, I cannot say I regret that either. I can only hope that what I saw when I looked at you was more than a reflection of my own wants and desires.

Kitty also accused me of being a pessimistic optimist.

So, Duo, what do I believe in, other than myself?

I believe in you.

Hunter had impeccable timing, and at first Heero suspected that he'd been lied to, and that the psychologist really _had_ been observing him via a hidden camera. That was until he realized that, although the words had flown across the page, he'd been sitting there staring at the last four words for the past ten minutes. A full half-hour had gone by since he'd been left alone to put his thoughts into words.

Hunter said nothing, just stood there waiting as Heero read over the letter one more time. Wordlessly he accepted the Zippo lighter from the psychologist. Heero's heart felt a small ache as he touched the corner of the paper to the blue part of the flame, and as the paper ignited, he dropped it in the wastebasket and watched it until there was nothing left but ash.

"I'll see you again at the conclusion of your current assignment, Heero, and at that time I will make a recommendation regarding the continuation of these visits."

Heero started to run his hand through his hair, then remembered he needed to break himself of that habit. The last thing he needed was to let his mannerisms give himself away while he was undercover, and he certainly didn't want to leave a calling card of sticky fingerprints in his wake.

Heero made eye contact with the doctor then, noting that the eyes that met his were full of understanding, but not sympathy. He nodded curtly and strode out, determined to nail that bastard before the weekend.

He replayed the last four words he'd written in his mind again.

He'd been patient long enough, and here, for a change, was a situation in which he had some control over the outcome. Perhaps it was just a matter of it being easier for the mountain to go to Mohammed rather than waiting for Mohammed to get off his stubbornly proud ass and do something.

He'd given Duo more than enough time to think things over. Hope was a wonderful thing to have, but sometimes actions were necessary.

One way or another, as soon as this assignment was over, he'd be paying Duo Maxwell a visit.

* * *

Trowa watched Quatre's careful movements as he refastened his pants and pulled his shirt closed, watched the fingers slip each button back into the appropriate hole.

"I spoke to my father," Quatre said, smoothing the fabric of his shirt in a vain attempt to lessen its wrinkled state.

"About?"

"Moving to Los Angeles permanently." His eyes met Trowa's. "To keep friends close and enemies closer."

Trowa nodded. "It would be practical," he said. "I understand you've spent quite a bit of time in airports and hotels."

Quatre nodded. "I'm very excited about Sanquhar," he said. "That's the name of-"

"I know, Quatre. I confess to displaying some rather stalker-like tendencies."

Their eyes met, and Quatre was once again stunned at the tender expression on Trowa's face.

"My father has expressed a desire to meet you," he said, pleased to see Trowa look surprised.

"So has your sister," he replied quietly.

"Iria..."

Trowa reached over and pulled Quatre close again. He felt a bit shamefaced, this need to touch Quatre, to reaffirm their contact. He put his hand under the blond's chin and tilted it upwards, staring into the most intriguing eyes he'd ever seen.

"At the risk of sounding like I'm spouting cheesy lines from dime store romances, you're everything I've ever wanted in a lover." He ran his thumb over Quatre's lower lip. "I knew from the moment you walked in that door that my life had changed, irrevocably, irreversibly. You have a knack for leaving an impression."

Trowa removed his hand and rubbed at his chest unconsciously. He felt a stinging sensation behind his eyelids.

He'd tried to make that clear to Quatre from the moment he knew how he felt, expecting the other man to pick up his nonverbal cues, or at the very least to sense how he felt, much like Quatre did with others.

It hadn't been fair of him, to expect so much in return when he'd done little to show how very much he cared for Quatre, more than as a friend.

His hand was tugged gently away from his chest and Quatre's fingers laced between his. The back of every knuckle was kissed softly, but they didn't lose eye contact for a second.

"I'm sorry," Quatre said. "I should have known."

"I should have told you," Trowa said around a lump that had formed in his throat.

"I wasn't ready to hear it."

"And now?"

"And now I think I'd die if I didn't." Quatre's eyes were bright, his smile showing he was teasing, trying to make light of the situation, to put him at ease.

"I think I'd like to keep you around a bit," Trowa said, attempting to force humor into his words. He leaned forward and brushed a kiss over Quatre's lips.

"I've been in love with you for so long, Quatre, it's often hard to remember what my life was like before I met you. I never imagined myself in a position where I'd desire commitment, and fidelity, and yeah, regular sex."

Quatre's expression clouded briefly, and Trowa shook his head. "Don't. The past can't be changed."

"No," Quatre agreed. "But we can learn from our mistakes and move forward, a bit wiser."

"No regrets?"

"I can't promise," Quatre said. "But I will try."

Trowa smiled. "So should I be nervous about meeting your family?"

"I understand that your sister throws knives like a pro. I think I'm the one who should be nervous." He noted Trowa's questioning look and chuckled. "You're not the only one who's exhibited some stalker-like traits recently."

"We can do this, Quatre."

"I know. I know, I do, it's just..."

Trowa enveloped him in a tight embrace. "Not everything needs an answer or a solution overnight, Quatre. I told you it wouldn't kill me to wait. I wasn't just talking about the sex."

He released him and stepped back, then tilted his head toward the door. "I wasn't planning on staying here all day, and I could use something to eat before my shift starts tonight."

"Want some company?"

Trowa smiled again. "Yours? Most definitely." He rubbed his hand up and down Quatre's arm once. "I'm officially inviting you to my apartment and will prepare food for us. Does this count as our first date?"

Quatre rested his arms on Trowa's shoulders and kissed him thoroughly. "I don't kiss on the first date."

Much was implied with that simple statement, and Trowa's body flushed with pleasure. He reluctantly pulled free of the loose embrace and threaded his fingers through Quatre's.

"And I don't ask casual acquaintances to bring me home."

There was that word again. Quatre gave a brief squeeze to the hand in his. "Home."

* * *

Lucrezia Noin looked at the building where she'd last seen Zechs, and thought that perhaps it was a good thing they were meeting on neutral territory.

She still had to question Wufei Chang about Dermail, and Heero wanted to be conferenced in when she spoke to Quatre Winner, and yet it seemed as though she already had most of her answers.

Only a fool would take one man's opinion as fact, and truthfully, she might not even be interpreting Treize's words the right way. He'd always had a tendency be rather lofty and poetic.

One thing that Noin had learned was that there was so little in life that was clear-cut. Treize was the sort of person who thrived in a world of misdirection, innuendo, and changing alliances. He'd always seemed to intuit so much, with so little information.

Heero was often like that, Noin supposed. He disliked hunches, but he knew that there was usually a reason for them. She wasn't sure when they'd started going out for the occasional beer, or who had suggested it. It wouldn't surprise her at all if it had been Heero.

It had provided both of them an excuse to open up around each other. It had taken a while to read between the lines, but now her partner was usually an open book to her. She supposed he did come across as a bit blunt and rough around the edges most of the time, but he was capable of displaying the utmost tact when a situation required it.

Initially she'd been a bit hesitant to accept his impulsiveness. It seemed so out of character for someone as serious and quiet as her newly assigned partner, and she admitted that she'd doubted the DEA's wisdom in transferring Yuy from a computer desk job to a field operative position.

Noin had never been so glad to be wrong. She'd always prided herself on being a good judge of character, but Heero put her own abilities to shame.

Truthfully, he would have been the better choice to question Treize and Chang.

Wufei Chang.

She'd not forgotten that Chang had expressed quite an interest in Heero. What had Heero been up to while he was gone? It was obvious his paths had crossed with Chang's. Yuy had been rather tightlipped about where he'd been since he'd returned. He had cleverly redirected the conversation the few times she'd probed. When had he picked up that particular skill?

Whatever Heero had been up to, he had certainly made some rather interesting acquaintances. The issue with Quatre Winner, for example...there was something there.

Her eyes widened. It wasn't common knowledge, but apparently Winner had recently come out of the closet. Could he and Heero...?

'Well, why not?' she asked herself. She knew nothing about Heero's preferences, as he'd never demonstrated sufficient interest in anyone of either gender. And he had seemed interested in speaking with Winner.

Noin had never really been an advocate of 'women's intuition,' but she couldn't say that he'd given any signs, no matter how discreet. He certainly had a vested interest in Iria Winner's younger brother, but she had a feeling she'd be barking up the wrong tree if she continued thinking in that vein. Something was missing.

Musing about Yuy's love life certainly made her feel better about her own.

She called herself ten kinds of a fool for even considering extending the olive branch to Zechs. He was a stubborn, pigheaded, arrogant bastard.

Treize's words sprang, unbidden, to her mind once again, and she sighed.

Zechs, if nothing else, did care. He cared about Relena, so much so that he made stupid mistakes in an attempt to pick up the slack after their father's declining health had forced him to give up the career he loved.

It was a rare person who could find a career that was personally rewarding. She was very fortunate in that regard.

That didn't excuse Zechs' passive aggressiveness, however. It seemed at times as if he were two different people - the dedicated soldier she'd fallen in love with, and the cold, bitter businessman.

Who was devoted to his sister and her future.

Despite everything, she still loved him, and she supposed she was just as sure that he loved her in return, or she'd not bother trying to see if they could start over. There was no point trying to force someone to feel something that was long dead and buried.

In fact, sometimes, if push came to shove, people fought harder, even if the outcome was something they really wanted. She'd seen that enough during interrogations.

She closed her eyes briefly. Had she been pushing Zechs too hard? She hadn't thought so, but perhaps she should have tried seeing things from his point of view. That didn't excuse the childish handling of things from his end, but the blame rarely lay on a single person's shoulders.

One of the reasons she'd fallen in love with Zechs had been because she'd respected him. When that respect started to wane, she became angry. She'd been just as juvenile in that regard.

Respect had to be earned, and it was a blow to one's ego to think it had been given frivolously. She wasn't sure how much she'd resented Zechs for putting his family first and how much because he'd made it painfully clear that he was envious of her own professional path.

There was too much between them that had remained unsaid. It was time to set the record straight. If they made a break of it, then at least there would be no misunderstandings as to why.

Treize's words seemed to apply to both the case and to her personal life. She was sure that was no coincidence.

Noin was heartily sick of the name Duke Dermail, and she'd only become familiar with it a short time ago. No matter how much she wanted to pin everything on one 'bad guy' - it rarely, if ever, worked that way in real life. That's why their last case had gone on so long. That's why Heero had volunteered to stay behind and baby-sit the witness.

When she'd found out that Heero's friend had been killed, she'd known that it had affected him deeply. He held himself responsible, irrationally so. Heero didn't allow many people close to him, but those he did were lucky indeed. Yuy was fiercely loyal, and once again, she knew she'd not hesitate to take a bullet for her partner.

Whomever it was that Heero had fallen in love with had no idea what a rare and beautiful gift that was.

She squared her shoulders and headed for the entrance. It was time to speak to Wufei Chang.

* * *

Heero's hand hesitated over the conditioner before he thought better of it. The important thing was that he'd washed his hair and rinsed it until the water ran clear.

After toweling off briskly, he pulled on the clothes he'd been given for this assignment, and grimaced as he caught his reflection in the mirror. If the guys in Buffalo could see him now, he'd never, ever live it down.

At least Noin hadn't seen him dressed this way. As it was, nothing short of a lobotomy would get her to forget that annoying nickname. She might even throw in a Pretty Boy Floyd for good measure.

He grabbed a bandana and tied it around his head, leaving the bangs and the back unfettered, then grabbed the key to his apartment and headed out to meet the surveillance team.

He wouldn't miss the water-resistant residue of adhesive tape on his skin, either.

Duo closed the door to his apartment behind him quietly, locking it and hanging his keys on a peg near the door.

He removed his tie as he walked to the bedroom and hung up his jacket in the closet. His shoes were toed off and kicked beneath the row of business suits, then he unbuttoned the first two buttons of his shirt before sitting on the edge of the bed and removing his cell phone.

He scrolled through saved numbers until he found the one he'd obtained from Quatre earlier.

Yuy Heero.

It seemed surreal, seeing the two names together on his display screen. He couldn't put his finger on it. In a way, the existence of a surname made Heero seem more real.

Heero Yuy had been in hiding, Duo was sure of it, but he found he didn't care. Whatever or whomever he'd been hiding from, he had a phone number. He'd given it to Quatre before he'd left Los Angeles.

What was he going to say to Heero?

"How about an apology, for starters?" he berated himself.

Quatre had made some very good points during that business meeting. Regretting the past was a wasted effort; no one could undo their mistakes. So what was keeping him from calling?

He was afraid.

He felt like a hypocrite. He'd told Quatre, told them all, that fear was borne of a lack of information and mistrust.

'I don't trust anyone,' he'd once told Heero. It seemed a lifetime ago.

The past often molded the way one approached the future. It was true that he'd once felt that way, but he wasn't afraid to admit that perhaps he'd been lying to himself for some time now.

He trusted Wufei implicitly, and Meiran as well. And the reason it had hurt so much when he'd heard Heero's name as he stood just outside the door of the Los Angeles apartment was because he'd felt betrayed.

As for obtaining more information, if he wanted that, he'd need to contact Heero.

Because there was really only one piece of information that he really needed to know, and if he were going to trust anyone, perhaps it was time to trust himself, to trust what he'd seen in Heero's expression.

He'd recognized what it was immediately, and it frightened him. He'd panicked and reacted badly, and he would apologize for that. But first he had to make the damned phone call.

With shaking fingers, he dialed the number.

tbc


	67. Flagger Ahead

The Edulcoration of Duo Maxwell - 66/?

Warnings: AU, yaoi, coarse language, violence, angst, cliffhangers, red herrings, mention of various vices, random bits of useless knowledge, occasionally explicit sex, enough footnotes to choke an army of horses.

Spoilers: Nah

Disclaimer: I don't really need to be Captain Obvious here, do I? No ownership, no money being made, yadda yadda. Written for fun, not profit.

Pairings to date: 2x1x2, 34, 4x3, 5M/5xM, 96, past 2xH, past 4x1

Archived at:   
http : www . atsui . org  
http : sweetlysour . net  
http : theforsakenwk . com  
http : www . gundam-wing-diaries . 150m . com

Edulcorate (verb) - To free from harshness (as of attitude); to soften

Chapter 66 - Flagger Ahead

"...just for a moment, I reach out and hope you're still there." - _Miles Away_, Winger

* * *

Duo's breath caught in his throat at the sound of Heero's voice a split second before he realized that it was a recorded prompt. When it came time to actually leave a message, he couldn't do it.

He hadn't seen Heero since he'd gone out of his way to push the other man away. He sure as hell didn't want the first thing he said to Heero to be via voice mail.

He'd try again later. Perhaps, if he continued being unsuccessful at reaching Heero, he'd leave a message, but at the moment, it was enough that he knew the number he had was in service. It wasn't that he'd doubted Quatre; it was more a lingering pessimism, a fear of once again being so close and yet still having an insurmountable distance between them.

He shook himself free of the negative thoughts. He'd overcome obstacles many times before. This wasn't any different.

Except for that blasted fear, of course.

* * *

Although Noin had known Zechs was in a meeting with Wufei Chang, she was unprepared for the rush of emotion at seeing him again. The last time she'd seen him, it had been as a favor to Relena. This time she was there on business, but had her own personal agenda.

The stakes were much higher. 

When she entered the conference room, she had a sense of deja vu, except that they were expecting her this time, and there was a third person present. After introductions were made, Chang offered to speak to her privately. She steadfastly ignored the ice blue eyes boring into her back as she followed the dark-haired man to his office.

The interview, although she hardly considered it one, took almost no time at all. Wufei didn't trust Dermail any farther than he could throw him, but he admitted that was because he'd known few people who didn't hold revenge in high regard.

However, he did admit that, although he didn't doubt Duke Dermail's weakness and lack of morals, he wasn't entirely convinced that the man would stoop to backing an illegal drug laboratory.

She didn't press the issue, recognizing the frustration Chang was unable to conceal. He hated not having the answers, and she knew from their last meeting he was not a very patient man.

Welcome to my world, she thought bitterly.

"I would like to speak to Mister Peacecraft, if I may."

He stood up when she did. "I can accompany you," he said, looking at her appraisingly, "or you are welcome to return to the conference room on your own."

"I've taken enough of your time," she nodded. "I appreciate your candor."

"I have little respect for liars," he said. "I wish you luck in your investigation, Agent Noin."

She'd reached the door to his office when he cleared his throat.

"Mister Chang?"

"Your partner," he said slowly.

"Heero is currently following another lead. You do understand I cannot discuss the case with you."

"Of course."

"Something on your mind, Mister Chang?"

He sighed heavily. "Nothing that concerns you. You do understand that I, too, must protect the interests of those who have placed their trust in me."

"I'm glad we understand one another," she agreed.

Zechs was glaring at a rather smug looking Meiran Long when Noin returned to the conference room. Meiran seemed the type of person who wasn't afraid to pull any punches. From what Noin knew of Wufei Chang, they were certainly well matched.

Meiran exuded courtesy as she bade farewell to Zechs, and she smiled at Noin as she reached the doorway where the agent was leaning. Meiran paused, her dark eyes searching Noin's in a way that made the taller woman feel slightly uncomfortable. Meiran said quietly, "I know that you are not here to speak with me, but let me give you a bit of advice. Devotion is not easily shed, and the desire to protect is natural when someone cares."

She waited for Noin to acknowledge her words with a nod, then swept past her, presumably, Noin assumed, to join her husband.

As soon as she was alone in the room with Zechs, he surprised her by speaking first. "Before I answer any questions, Noin, tell me one thing. Why you?"

"You know Treize," she said. "It seemed best to approach him as a friend."

"How much of this has to do with Duke Dermail, really, Noin?"

"That's what I hope to find out," she said calmly.

"Have you ever considered marriage, Noin?"

He was trying to catch her off guard. She stilled her rapidly beating heart and said tightly, "that's irrelevant to my reason for being here."

"Is it?" he asked, turning to face her fully. Had he been wearing his usual arrogant expression, she would have been able to remind herself that this was just an informal information gathering.

"Yes," she said quietly, not sure which question she was answering.

He was silent. They remained standing, staring at each other, and when his arm started to lift slightly, she realized they were much closer to one another than they'd been when he'd first asked her that question.

"Lucrezia Noin," he murmured, letting his arm drop back to his side. "Would you change your name if you got married?"

"That's a moot point," she said.

"Hypothetically speaking."

She wanted to tell him to stop toying with her, but he'd asked for it. If they were going to play this game, she'd give him the truth.

"No," she said. "I would not. If I ever intended to have children, then perhaps I would, but no. My name is part of my identity."

She would swear he almost smiled. "It's part of your charm, Noin, how stubborn you are. And yes, I do realize that's the pot calling the kettle black. I can't imagine thinking of you by any other name, Noin, but it would never change who you are."

"Perhaps if I were to get married some day, my husband would change his name instead."

She expected him to look at her as if she'd lost her mind, but he seemed amused. It should have annoyed her to no end, but his amusement didn't make her feel like a child.

"I think you should trust Treize, in this case," he said finally.

"Why don't you tell me what you think," she countered. "If you want to help me, Zechs, then you'll stop beating around the bush."

"Let me buy you lunch," he said. Before her temper snapped, he added, "and while we enjoy each other's company, I will answer any questions you have regarding Duke Dermail or any of my new partners to the best of my ability."

She hesitated.

"Noin," he said. "Trust me."

She wanted to turn tail and flee, wanted to escape the feelings he stirred in her with those words, especially when he added softly, "as I do you."

"It will cost you," she said.

"It will be worth every penny."

She nodded, and with that, he held out his arm for her. She accepted it hesitantly. The warmth of his arm still had the power of making her heart accelerate.

Trust, she mused as they left the conference room.

Trust, she mused as they entered the elevator.

"Zechs," she said, as they reached his car. He unlocked her door and opened it for her.

"I do trust you." Their eyes met, and she murmured softly, "as much as I trust Yuy."

Don't prove me wrong, she pleaded with him silently as he started the car.

* * *

"Your skin is starting to pale, Yuy."

"No, it's not," he said in a clipped voice, standing stock still as another agent carefully applied a layer of liquid surgical adhesive to his outer thigh before carefully positioning the transmitter. The surveillance technician held the device in place and nodded to his partner, who was seated at the controls of the wireless receiver. She placed her headphones on and flipped a few switches to check the transmission.

The make-up artist sighed. "I wish you'd agreed to let me touch up your complexion, at least."

"No. If I perspire, it will be obvious that I'm wearing cosmetics."

"We could have used some waterproof..." she trailed off, seeing that there would be no convincing him. If his skin tone had lightened significantly, she'd have pressed the issue earlier, but truthfully, his color was holding up rather well, although if this assignment were prolonged, he'd have to go into the booth for another application of polarized particles. As it was, he hadn't been exactly thrilled the first time.

Receiving a nod from the seated agent, the one crouched in front of Heero tore off a piece of tape. Once the wire was in place, the make-up artist went to work on Heero's back and arm, checked his ear, and pronounced his appearance acceptable before handing him a small plastic case.

Heero inserted the contact lenses and blinked a few times to insure that they were firmly in place.

"Sotto voce, Yuy."

Heero murmured quietly. The agent checking the audio frowned and made an adjustment. He repeated the phrase and received a nod and a thumbs-up.

"Crystal clear. It's show time," she told him.

He got out of the van, adjusted the gold watch on his wrist, and took a few deep breaths to get into character before he ambled down the street and toward his destination.

He was getting mightily sick of that bar, and if he never set foot in it ever again, it would be too soon.

* * *

Duo turned off his phone and set it carefully on the nightstand. He'd tried calling Heero just twice more. Obviously Heero was unavailable.

Part of him wanted to call Quatre. He was sure that his new partner would somehow be able to soothe the irrational fear he felt. Duo did not like being afraid of anything.

He frowned as he turned off the bedside lamp. He was acting a bit like an infatuated teenaged girl, and that had to stop. He pulled the sheet up under his chin and took a few calming breaths.

Perhaps he could count sheep to fall asleep. Sometimes the most ridiculous methods for addressing insomnia were also the most effective.

Except his mind instead continued to dwell on the very person responsible for his sleeplessness.

Tomorrow, he reassured himself several times. Tomorrow's another day.

* * *

Heero was bone tired by the time he got home. He wanted to kill the person who had started the fight at the bar. He was so damned close he could taste it. He was on the verge of getting the dealer to make the offer when the beer bottle was shattered on the table next to them and brandished like a weapon.

It took every ounce of control he had to keep from putting his hand-to-hand combat skills to the test. He'd slunk out of there, looking appropriately nervous and fearful of getting caught as the person he was supposed to be would, all while pretending otherwise. A role within a role. Those who didn't know Heero well would never think him capable of being anything other than blunt and forthcoming, but he'd managed to play many a part, quite convincingly. Noin was one of the few people who could see through his attempts at keeping himself distanced.

He'd been in a foul mood as he made his way back to the van, although if nothing else, the video feed from the wristwatch seemed to be working well. He wished that device precluded the need for the concealed transmitter, but it was foolhardy to put all one's faith in a single piece of technology.

He was inclined to agree with the surveillance team that the dealer was ready to take the bait. Once they had enough evidence to arrest him, which they would as soon as he made Heero the offer, then the real trial would begin. The interrogation.

Heero itched to get his hands on the drug and have it sent to the lab for analysis. It had to be the same one that Sally Po had been investigating.

He unlocked the door to his apartment and kicked the shoes immediately. He headed straight for the bathroom, eager to scrub at the traces of adhesive and solvent on his skin, eager to wash the scent of the bar from his hair. It always felt like it seeped into every pore - not just the smoke, but the atmosphere.

The cologne he wore as part of his cover was not anything he'd have chosen for himself. It was pricey and designed to attract attention. It was part of the signature of his fake identity, along with the way he dressed and the mannerisms he'd carefully cultivated.

He'd sworn that first night that his cover was blown. He'd had a sense of unease, something he couldn't quite put his finger on. It hadn't persisted in subsequent nights, but he didn't like it. He hoped that the bar fight hadn't been carefully staged in an attempt to gage his reactions. As much as he hated working undercover, he prided himself in his ability to avoid projecting the word "cop" to all and sundry.

He grabbed a pair of underwear and noted that he was going to need to do laundry soon. Dressed in shorts and nothing else, he practically collapsed onto the bed.

Hopefully the quarry hadn't gotten wind of the trap yet, he thought hazily. His eyes felt like lead weights and his hand patted the sheets blindly a few times.

When his eyes closed fully and he drifted off to sleep, his forehead smoothed out and the lines of worry were no longer present on his face.

And Gaia was firmly tucked under his chin.

tbc

Flagger Ahead - the name of this road construction sign, for those of you who like to click on links:  
http : www . signsandposts . com / store / images / products / w20-7a . GIF


	68. Elizabethan Drama

**The Edulcoration of Duo Maxwell  
  
**Warnings: AU, yaoi, coarse language, violence, angst, cliffhangers, red herrings, mention of various vices, random bits of useless knowledge, occasionally explicit sex, enough footnotes to choke an army of horses.  
  
Spoilers: Nah  
  
Disclaimer: I don't really need to be Captain Obvious here, do I? No ownership, no money being made, yadda yadda. Written for fun, not profit.  
  
Pairings to date: 2x1x2, 34, 4x3, 5M/5xM, 96, past 2xH, past 4x1  
  
_Edulcorate_ (verb) - To free from harshness (as of attitude); to soften  
  
This chapter dedicated to Forsaken, for letting me know it's normal to fear the ending of a long story, and to Porcelain, for making me swoon with art and giving me that final push into finishing this thing. Last chapter down, epilogue to go. See? Told ya just two more!

* * *

****

**Chapter 67 - Elizabethan Drama  
  
**"I've seen you twice in a short time - only a week since we started..." _Name of the Game_ - ABBA

* * *

Despite the lateness of the hour when Heero had gotten home the night before, he couldn't sleep any longer. He was too eager to get that offer of the drug that had been alluded to, but not mentioned outright. There wasn't much he could do until he was on duty later that evening. He hoped the dealer wasn't going to string him along much longer. If past experience was anything to go by, he'd have the evidence he needed before the weekend, then he could turn his attention to more personal matters.  
  
Besides his desire to contact Duo, there were practical concerns, like returning to Berkeley Heights for his car. And getting his hair cut. He rubbed at the strands brushing the back of his neck in irritation.  
  
It was too bad there was nothing that could be done about the other minor alterations to his appearance other than waiting for things to fade. Noin wasn't the only one ribbing him about his California tan.

He scowled as he opened his top drawer, noting that it was almost empty. He'd really fallen behind on his laundry. He perused the selection of casual clothes in his closet, then reluctantly grabbed a worn pair of jeans.  
  
He dressed quickly, buttoning the long sleeved shirt but rolling up the sleeves before going into the bathroom to take care of his hair. It was one thing he was adamant about - trying to keep his appearance as close as possible to normal when he wasn't undercover.

After squeezing a small amount of tinted gel into his palm, he rubbed his hands together briskly and ran them through his hair, then used the comb given to him by the make-up artist to distribute it through to the ends. He carefully arranged the hair at his temples and fluffed his bangs, longing for the day when he could once again maintain a simple style with a minimum of fuss. No wonder Noin had given up and gone with a much shorter hairstyle.

He washed his hands thoroughly, and waited until he was sure his hair was dry enough before flipping up the collar of his shirt. He picked up his cell phone to check his messages and wasn't sure if he was relieved or annoyed that there were no new developments in the case.

There was no point delaying the unpleasantness of household chores, and it was a good day to take care of some errands, including filling Noin's gas tank before she returned from California. He was not at all impressed with its fuel efficiency.

* * *

"I'm going to start charging you the going rate," Duo said as he picked Hilde up for lunch.  
  
"The pleasure of my company isn't enough?" she asked, fiddling with the radio as soon as she'd buckled her seatbelt.  
  
"You wish," he retorted, pulling out of the parking lot.  
  
Hilde gave him a sidelong glance. "You seem pretty determined," she commented. "Hostile takeover scheduled at two?"  
  
"Hoping for more of a merger."  
  
"Mmm hmm." She knew that tone of voice. It meant he'd said all he was going to say on the subject.  
  
Knowing that, she offered an anecdote of her own, one that had Duo laughing and shaking his head in disbelief.  
  
That led to a rather humorous discussion over a meal consisting of tonkatsu and tea. Hilde watched Duo's hands during the meal, fascinated with how assured he was as he handled his chopsticks.  
  
He noticed her gaze and gave her an exaggerated leer. "Don't you remember the time we-"  
  
She held up a hand to cut him off. "Please. I had hoped to forget the follies of my youth."  
  
He laughed, and she was pleased to hear it. She'd been worried that his earlier demeanor might have suggested that something bad had happened.

* * *

Heero scowled and wondered how much he'd respect himself if he turned tail and left the supermarket.  
  
It was obvious that some people had far too much time for their lunch breaks if they had time to stop at the Pathmark on a lunch break.  
  
If not for the fact that he preferred the layout of this particular store over the one in Elizabeth, this would not even be an issue.  
  
He squared his shoulders. He was not about to slink around like a juvenile delinquent trying to avoid getting caught shoplifting. He had every right to be here.  
  
At least he'd done what he could with his hair before he left.  
  
He was surprised he'd gotten as many as four items on his shopping list before he was spotted.  
  
"Yuy? Is that you? Ee?"  
  
Heero gritted his teeth. He hated that joke. He acknowledged the greeting with a nod, then consulted his list, trying to get the message across that, off duty or not, he had no time for idle chitchat.  
  
Not that his peer should have had the time, either.  
  
He could feel more than see the assessing look he got, and it bothered him in a way that being ogled as a prostitute never had.  
  
"Wasn't sure, but that hair is pretty distinctive. Growing it out?"  
  
"I've been _busy_," Heero replied in a clipped tone.  
  
"Aaaah," the agent nodded, catching on right away. "Gotcha. Well, then, I'll see ya around."  
  
Heero nodded, relieved that he didn't have to explain himself. However, as he wheeled his cart past the other man, he didn't fail to note the second curious appraisal of his attire.  
  
Once Heero had turned down the next aisle, the index finger of his right hand touched the frayed denim around one of the many artfully arranged slits in his jeans.  
  
Laundry was definitely going on his list of chores for the day.

* * *

Lunch with Hilde had been a pleasant affair, and Duo had been in a good spirits as they parted company.  
  
Now, however, he was close to forgetting the pleasant mood he'd been in earlier, for one simple reason. He hated traffic jams.  
  
There was something about being completely helpless over a situation that riled him. Sometimes it seemed preordained; that gridlock would be inevitable, and nothing he could do would ever make a difference.  
  
Duo admitted to himself he was overreacting. While they were dating, Hilde had teased him more than once that the longest distance between two points was called a short cut. It seemed that, in this case, that was sadly, painfully true.  
  
It wouldn't have been so bad if he'd not driven past the pawnshop and been struck with an inexplicable bout of nostalgia. He'd not even recognized it as such right away. Nostalgia was for people who had something fond to look back on.  
  
Yet he'd turned down a nearby side street and called Sylvia to let her know he would be late returning from lunch.  
  
Not only had he felt that sense of wonder that he'd long forgotten, entering the shop, he'd been just as surprised at the variety of items for sale as he'd been back then.  
  
Even though he could afford to buy everything the pawnbroker offered without blinking an eye, he'd felt that familiar sense of awe, knowing there might just be something he could take home with him. It had been a heady feeling as a child, to accompany his mother to the pawnshop for purposes of buying, not selling.  
  
Every cloud did have its silver lining, something he was trying desperately to remind himself of as he sat in his car. He felt damned impotent.  
  
Duo sighed as a single car managed to pass through the intersection before the light turned red again. If he'd resisted the urge and kept driving past the shop, he'd have been back at the office by now.  
  
Five minutes later, he'd moved two cars closer to the intersection.  
  
It wouldn't be so bad, he mused, if this particular street at least had interesting scenery to look at. Even the soothing strains of music from his stereo weren't enough to keep him from tapping his thumb impatiently on the steering wheel.  
  
Boredom became a secondary concern as soon as he felt the impact from the car behind him, forceful enough to nudge his car forward and into the bumper of the preceding vehicle.  
  
He bit off his stream of curses. Getting angry was not going to change things either, despite the fact that he couldn't wait to find out exactly what excuse he was going to hear from the driver behind him.  
  
He called Sylvia again to let her know he'd decided to take the entire afternoon off. He then called Wufei to let him know as well, not that he expected his partner to contact him for anything other than an emergency.  
  
Duo impatiently pawed at the deflating airbag, eager to get the hell out of his car. His hand hit the stereo and the radio station blared loudly, although the classical CD had been playing at a moderate volume.  
  
_Fairy tales, they do sometimes come true..._  
  
"Hilde is definitely forbidden to touch this thing," he growled, turning the radio off. "She probably changed all my presets, too."  
  
He was a bit calmer by the time the police arrived on the scene, and he'd already exchanged insurance information with the apologetic woman whose foot had apparently "slipped off the brake" as she told both Duo and then the police officer. He'd decided long before the tow truck arrived that he was taking a vacation as soon as the entire Sanquhar business was well underway.  
  
It didn't surprise Duo at all that the traffic situation had miraculously improved. A fender bender without carnage was just an annoyance to other drivers, so there was little of the rubbernecking that usually followed an accident.  
  
He looked across the street and spotted a vending machine, and realized that at that moment, there was nothing he wanted more than a cold beverage; water, soda, juice, he didn't care, as long as it was cold.  
  
Duo told the driver of the tow truck he'd be right back, and made his way to the gas station that hosted the machine.  
  
He tilted his head back and took a long drink from his bottle, draining half of it, before he saw something that nearly made him spray soda all over his shirt.  
  
He had to be mistaken...but the driver of that car could have been Heero's twin.  
  
The same white car that was inching its way past the tow truck that Duo's car was now firmly chained to.

It wasn't entirely impossible, considering the area code of the number he'd practically committed to memory after dialing it several times.  
  
Duo sprinted back across the street, only to watch the vehicle make it through the same light that he'd been stuck at for a good half an hour.  
  
The driver was filling out paperwork in the cab of the truck, and he nodded to Duo to indicate the car had been secured and he was ready whenever Duo was.  
  
Duo climbed into the passenger seat and slammed the door shut. He pointed at the retreating taillights.  
  
"See that white car?"  
  
"The Ford?"  
  
"Yes." Duo reached into his pocket, withdrew his money clip, and removed a hundred-dollar bill. He slapped it on the driver's clipboard. "Follow it."  
  
The driver, whose name was apparently Nick, according to the embroidered patch on his shirt, laughed at him, although he eyed the money with interest. "This sounds like something I don't want to be involved in."  
  
Duo added a second hundred-dollar bill.  
  
"I don't even know where that car is going," Nick pointed out. "This vehicle isn't exactly designed for maneuverability in the city."  
  
After four portraits of Benjamin Franklin were stacked on the clipboard, the grinding of gears was the only warning Duo got before the flatbed quickly pulled out into traffic in pursuit of the white Ford.

* * *

Nick was good, Duo had to admit. He was unable to catch up to the Ford in the city, but once they entered the Holland Tunnel, the westbound traffic wasn't nearly as dense. Duo's anticipation was peaking as they crossed the Hudson River. His heart was in his throat for a moment when he thought Heero might be headed for the Newark Airport, and he released the breath he'd been holding when it was clear that the automobile they were following passed the turnoff for the airport.  
  
He experienced a second moment of panic when Nick was forced to slow down to avoid getting pulled over, but they managed to avoid losing sight of the Ford until it pulled down a narrow side street.  
  
All the money in the world couldn't make the road any wider. Nick had to take an alternate street, leaving Duo to fidget helplessly.  
  
"This is the best I can do, sir," Nick said, pulling over a few blocks away from where they'd lost the Ford. He was grinning widely, indicating that the rush of adrenaline, the thrill of driving an oversized vehicle at almost breakneck speeds, had been almost as much reward as the monetary compensation Duo had given him.  
  
Duo's eyes scanned up and down the street in frustration, lighting up as he recognized what seemed to be a familiar shock of dark hair, hoping against hope he wasn't mistaken at this distance. The brunet's destination seemed to be a series of brownstone apartments. Duo grabbed his jacket and slid out of the truck, waving his thanks to Nick, who chuckled and gave a casual salute with two fingers before driving off.  
  
Once his feet hit the pavement, Duo slipped his jacket on and he walked toward the place where he'd last seen the dark-haired man. He checked the pocket for his cell phone, reassured by its familiar presence.  
  
He hastened his pace toward the apartment buildings, hoping that, for this particular gamble, fate was going to smile on him.

* * *

__

__

_"Japonito!"_  
  
Heero paused, taking a moment to nod at his neighbor. They exchanged brief pleasantries in Spanish. Nothing out of the ordinary, but Heero felt an uncomfortable tingle running the length of his spine.  
  
He didn't like it. He felt targeted. He put his hand to his hip instinctively, cursing the fact that he was off duty at the moment.  
  
If his cover had been blown, he might have more than the aggravation of lost time to contend with. He had carefully avoided areas where he'd been working undercover, even though it meant he'd had to go out of his way a few times. He would have avoided the city altogether if he could have helped it.  
  
It wasn't until he was inside the apartment that he felt reassured. He locked all the doors and windows, and checked the messages on his cell phone.  
  
He didn't expect to find any, as his phone hadn't rung once while he was out. He finally decided he was being paranoid, and headed for the bedroom.  
  
Despite his best efforts to break himself of the habit, he found himself running a hand through his hair in agitation. He scowled at the coloring that transferred to his sweaty palm, and decided that a quick shower wouldn't be a bad idea before he headed for the laundromat.  
  
He could always wear a hat and hope like hell no one recognized him.  
  
Heero almost defiantly turned on his stereo, loud enough so that he could hear it over the running water, and headed for the bathroom.  
  
He was not paranoid.  
  
The fact that he had to force himself to do more than simply rinse his hair and body had nothing to do with that prickly feeling he'd experienced outside.

* * *

Duo glanced balefully up at the windows, hoping for a clue as to which might be Heero's. The sense of deja vu he had was not helping his nerves any. He supposed he wait for someone to enter the building, rather than buzzing random apartments, and then...do what? Go door to door looking for someone who might not even be Heero?  
  
His attention was drawn by a window opening, accompanied by faint strains of music floating down to the street.  
  
The curtains fluttered in the breeze, and his eyes riveted on the profile he saw briefly as the person turned from the window.  
  
It had to be Heero.  
  
Duo's hand touched the cell phone again. There was one way to be sure, right?  
  
It was then that the lyrics caught his attention. He shook his head, and listened carefully. Was that what he thought it was?  
  
_Get up, get up..._  
  
It was.  
  
James Fucking Brown.  
  
The funny thing was, Duo was surprised, but not surprised that he was. He shook his head, smiling slightly at the logic. They knew nothing about each other. They were, for all that they'd fucked each other, virtual strangers. So little had been said, so little that really mattered, anyway. He looked up at the window again and grinned a little.  
  
He could spend a lifetime being surprised by Heero Yuy.  
  
The longing in his heart surged forth, making his throat tight. He glanced at the fire escape ladder just out of reach and shook his head. He'd be lucky if he didn't kill himself, but far be it from him to ignore the advice of the godfather of soul. Cell phone be damned.  
  
He rubbed his palms together as he positioned himself below the ladder. He jumped up and barely managed to grab the bottom rung, swinging himself up to the first landing and the set of stairs that led to the next. He eagerly headed for the steps when he was brought up short.  
  
"Son of a-"  
  
His hair had gotten caught. The joined bars of metal at the corner of the railing were no longer flush against each other, and the end of the plait was wedged tightly between the resulting gap. In a fit of anger he tugged it with both hands, surrendering the band and a small clump of hair to the fire escape.  
  
He practically raced up the rickety metal stairs leading to Heero's floor, heading for the window where the notes of _Sex Machine_ were still taunting him.  
  
There really was some kind of force in the universe that had a rather sick sense of humor. He reached the open window and didn't see Heero in the room. He reached up a hand to tap at the windowsill.  
  
And found a gun pressed against his temple.  
  
Duo swallowed nervously, realizing the folly of his actions. After an agonizingly long moment, Heero apparently realized it was him, and Duo's heart started beating again when he heard the safety click on. The gun was lowered, but Heero didn't invite him in.  
  
Duo said the first thing that came into his head.  
  
"James Brown?"  
  
Heero looked almost sheepish for a second, then folded his arms across his chest. "There are a lot of things you don't know about me, Duo."  
  
Duo smiled weakly. "Yeah."  
  
"What are you doing, Duo?"  
  
Not what are you doing out on my fire escape. Not what are you doing looking so damn sexy I want nothing more than to drag you in here and fuck you into next week. Just, what are you doing, Duo. Like he'd gotten caught stealing a test out of the teacher's desk. It was enough to make him sorry he'd bothered.  
  
_Dum spiro, spero_, he reminded himself.  
  
Duo reached into his pocket, pulled something out, and held it out to Heero casually. "You forgot this."  
  
Heero glanced at the contact lens case, and a curious look crossed his face as he accepted it.  
  
Encouraged, Duo removed the pawnshop purchase from his jacket pocket and offered it with both hands.  
  
"And, uh, we never got to see this together."  
  
Heero's eyed the brown bag warily. A look of surprise crossed his face as Duo slid the second-hand videotape out of the paper sack and held it up to show him the title.  
  
_Kismet_, starring Marlene Dietrich.  
  
Heero put the safety back on his gun and slid it into the back of his waistband. With the other hand he took the tape from Duo. After a few heartstopping moments, he stepped back and motioned Duo into his apartment. After climbing through the window, Duo realized they were in Heero's bedroom.  
  
"You could have killed me," Duo said.  
  
Heero looked almost offended. He glanced down at the tape in his hands. "I don't have a VCR."  
  
"I do."  
  
Heero looked at him assessingly, then reached out a hand and lifted some of the hopelessly tangled strands framing Duo's face.  
  
"That wasn't a very smart thing to do," he said, his fingers lightly caressing one of the snarls.  
  
"It was impulsive," Duo defended.  
  
"Impulsive." Heero eyed Duo and let the hair drop from his fingers. "I didn't take you for the impulsive sort."  
  
"I'm just full of surprises."  
  
Duo's eyes wandered over Heero, who had obviously just gotten out of the shower, and they widened as he took in all the changes.  
  
Besides Heero's deeply tanned skin, the tips of his hair, which had grown a couple of inches since they'd parted ways, were bleached blond. Despite the chemical processing, there was a rather impressive sheen to Heero's hair.  
  
Duo inhaled deeply. He'd recognize that scent anywhere. It used to be part of his own daily ablutions up until he'd checked out of the Regent Beverly Wilshire. He fought the urge to smile as he realized that he'd not forgotten the bottle in the hotel after all.  
  
The scar on Heero's upper arm was concealed by an elaborate pattern, and Duo suspected that if Heero turned around, a matching tribal tattoo would be on his back as well.  
  
"It's all temporary," Heero said with a scowl, noticing his gaze. He reached a hand up to run through his hair and stopped himself. The gesture drew Duo's attention to two gold hoops in Heero's right ear, before the other man touched the earrings self-consciously.  
  
"It seems I'm not the only one full of surprises," Duo murmured. His gaze slipped down Heero's bare chest and stopped when he reached the tattered briefs.  
  
Duo had seen Heero naked, and in skintight leather, and in a custom tailored suit, but he'd never seen him in something as hideously ugly as a pair of underwear that was long overdue for the trash heap.  
  
Heero noticed. "It's laundry day," he muttered, walking to his dresser. He set down the tape and the lens case and opened one of the drawers.  
  
Duo couldn't help grinning. Seeing Heero dressed in such a pathetically worn undergarment seemed incredibly intimate. It was almost a shame that they were soon covered by a pair of drawstring shorts that Heero had pulled out of his dresser.  
  
"There are a lot of unforeseen obstacles," Heero said thoughtfully, walking past Duo to look out the window. His fingers reached up to fiddle with the curtain. "There could be hidden landmines. The bottom could fall out at any minute."  
  
He turned and looked hard at Duo. "Are you prepared to undertake such a risky business venture?"  
  
"Those with the highest risks," Duo said, echoing one of the first things he'd told Heero when they first met.  
  
"Hmmm."  
  
"Heero," Duo said, staring into those fathomless eyes. He fiddled with his fingers, trying to think of what to say to convince Heero that he was sincere. That things between them had been far more than a business arrangement from the beginning.  
  
"How did you find me, Duo?"  
  
Duo blinked at the unexpected change in topic.  
  
"Duo," Heero repeated. "I asked you a question."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
Heero gave him an impatient look, and Duo wondered if this was another test. Was the man ever straightforward?  
  
"I saw you," Duo breathed, belated realization hitting him like a ton of bricks.  
  
Heero looked downright pissed, almost dangerous, and he started to advance upon Duo. "Where?"  
  
"I didn't know it was you at the time," Duo said. "The Washington Tavern, couple of nights ago." And I lusted after you, then, too. "Shit, Heero..." he shook his head. "Then again today...on Pike Street."  
  
"That's a good twenty miles from here," Heero said, stopping in his tracks and crossing his arms.  
  
"I followed you, okay? Is that what you want to hear?"  
  
Duo had gone through a damned lot of soul searching over the past two months, and he was suddenly very sick of the whole thing.  
  
"You know what, Heero? You're a damned pain in the ass. I didn't overreact to the fact that Quatre Winner and you have some sort of shared history that I'd really rather not have known about. I didn't hire a private investigator to look up any information he could find on a Heero Yuy, and you know as well as I do that I could damn well afford to. So maybe I acted a bit irrationally when I climbed the damned fire escape, but hell, you can't tell me you never did anything without thinking it all the way through.  
  
"I missed YOU, Heero. I missed what we had, damn it. You're irritatingly smug when you win, but I actually _enjoyed_ losing to you at Scrabble. I don't...care...not really, who you fucked before me, or what you actually do for a living. I fell in love with you, not your goddamn job, and not with that...thing you do with your tongue. You, the guy who drank beer and threw playing cards at me, and hasn't ever seen a decent movie. The same guy who took elective classes at UCLA just because they seemed interesting, who quotes lofty shit like dumb spiro, and who can take a punch to the jaw without holding a grudge. I'm sorry if you can't understand that I heard opportunity knock and I jumped at the chance to answer the fucking door this time.  
  
"And for the record, I cannot believe you actually own a piece of shit Ford Taurus. I really thought you had better taste than that."  
  
Heero's face registered shock followed by amusement.  
  
"A dumb spiro?"  
  
"Fuck you, Yuy, you know what I meant."  
  
Heero rather liked the way his surname rolled off Duo's tongue. He took a step forward. "You followed me?"  
  
"That's what I said."  
  
"And you climbed the trellis." Another step.  
  
Duo snorted. "I wouldn't call that a trellis." He took a step backward without realizing what he was doing.  
  
"In the story, Rapunzel isn't the one who climbs the tower."  
  
"There's a damned good reason for that," Duo muttered, gathering his hair behind him. He backed up another step, only noting that a rubber band would come in handy right about now. Irritated, he released his hair.  
  
"You're the one who called me last night,"  
  
Duo blinked. "Yeah."  
  
"You missed me."  
  
"Are you fucking deaf, Heero? Or is your ego just that much in need of stroking?"  
  
Duo's retreat was stopped when his back touched the wall. Heero rested one hand against the wall, leaning toward Duo slightly. The hint of a smirk played about his lips.  
  
"When did you know?"  
  
Duo was about to lose his patience again, but then he noticed something. The tension in the arm braced next to him. It was more than just the effort preventing Heero from pitching forward. For a brief second, Duo was reminded of a child who was afraid of reaching for a toy, out of fear that it would be snatched away at the last minute.  
  
"It's...it's like the title of that movie," Duo said. "I told you that we should watch it together sometime, and I meant it. I know you don't believe in destiny, in kismet, but you said you believed in yourself. You don't have a monopoly on that."  
  
"Talk is cheap, Maxwell."  
  
"So you were lying?"  
  
"Were _you_?" Despite the intensity of Heero's gaze, his voice sounded almost wary.  
  
Duo realized they were no longer talking about the same thing and he ran through the last few things he'd shouted at Heero.  
  
"I don't lie."  
  
"Everyone lies, Duo."  
  
Duo could feel his teeth clench. "Talk is cheap, huh?"  
  
"Ye-" and the rest of Heero's words were swallowed as Duo reached behind Heero's head and yanked him forward until their mouths collided.  
  
Despite the rough beginning, the kiss grew in its intensity. It had always been about more than just sex with Heero. More than a struggle for dominance. Those things were part of it, but it was always just 'more' when it came to Heero.  
  
Duo's hands ran up and down Heero's spine and he felt the resulting tremors under his fingertips. Their mouths separated only briefly as one of them would nip or suck at the other's lip, and then a tongue would thrust itself into an open mouth, and they'd continue to spar.  
  
The kiss was wet and desperate and so very, very hot.  
  
"It's not my car," Heero said in between kisses.  
  
"Wha?" More tongue, more sucking.  
  
"The car." A bit more nibbling with Heero's fingers brushing near the pulse of Duo's neck. "Not my 'piece of shit.'"  
  
Duo pulled his mouth from Heero's and lapped at his Adam's apple instead. "Don't care." He nipped lightly, his body feeling flushed as Heero's head tilted backwards.  
  
"I've a reputation to protect," Heero said, his voice cracking slightly as Duo's hands slid down to cup his buttocks. His hand clenched in the knotted waves of hair and he returned his mouth to Duo's.  
  
"I donated that money," he murmured against Duo's lips, trying to keep his eyes open and failing. It didn't matter as Duo's were closed as well.  
  
"Don't care 'bout the money," Duo said before thrusting his tongue back into Heero's mouth for several moments before pulling back long enough to add, "only you, Heero." He resumed their kiss with fervor.  
  
Duo's shirt was now hanging off his shoulders, and he was not all that surprised to realize that he, or perhaps Heero, had removed the jacket as well.  
  
"The fat lady," Heero's words were muffled as his tongue was otherwise engaged.  
  
"Fat lady?" Duo's mind was only half on the words, intent as he was on shedding his shirt without removing his hands from Heero's body.  
  
"She's not started singing yet."  
  
"You've got a gun," Duo muttered, forced to remove one hand to shake his sleeve loose. "We can shoot her first."  
  
"We?" Heero's laughter came out as a staccato of exhaled breath against Duo's throat as he worked his lips down Duo's jaw line.  
  
This kiss - this series of kisses - was nothing like their first kiss, which had been just as full of need and passion and desperation - and of saying good-bye. Duo hadn't realized until now that's what their first kiss represented. It didn't diminish what they'd shared in that kiss, but the difference was like night and day.  
  
This one was full of promises of things to come. Trying times, time spent learning more about each other, and times apart when Duo was busy closing a business deal while Heero was doing...whatever it was that Heero did. Times when they'd likely want to kill each other out of frustration.  
  
Lots and lots of makeup sex.  
  
Duo decided that there was a time and place for everything, and pleasant as the thoughts of a future spent together was, perhaps he was jumping the gun just a little bit.  
  
But there would be plenty of opportunities for talking later.  
  
Whatever their future might hold, right now was a perfect time to indulge in more of those actions that spoke louder than words.  
  
Besides, he was eager to let Heero in on a few more of those surprises he was full of.  
  
END

* * *

Chapter 57's title, Liberty and Prosperity in the Violet Garden, has three references to the state of New Jersey, in case you were wondering why the hell I picked such an oddball title back then. State motto, state flower, and state nickname.

The lyrics of the song playing on Duo's radio are from Surface's _Shower Me With Your Love_.  
  
_Japonito_ - a diminutive form of japon, or, loosely translated, "Little Japanese."

On the off chance any of you want to go back to reread that bar scene where Duo saw Heero, it took place in Chapter 63, The Divine Comedy.  
  
Disbelievers. I told you it would be just two more chapters...two chapters ago.

And I apologize in advance. I will be unable to post the epilogue here on ff.net, as I don't wish for the _watchful eyes of my peers_ to report me for inappropriate rating of content.


End file.
